Key Choices
by Emador
Summary: Spot's best friend turns to selling herself during the strike. What happens when Spot finds out? [repost; originally posted in summer 2015]
1. Strike

_Author's Note: I originally posted this story in the summer of 2015, but had subsequently taken it down when I found out there had been other sites mirroring . Luckily that has passed, and I will be reposting all of my old stories! My apologies to my followers who will be bombarded with "New Story/Chapter" alerts. Enjoy!_

* * *

"That ain't good enough, Jacky boy," Spot said, taking a few steps away. He turned back to Jack. "You gotta show me."

Jack stared him down for a couple beats. Every Brooklyn newsie's eye was watching the scene.

"We will, Spot," David said with more confidence than he felt. "You wait and see."

Spot smirked. "I'll keep my eyes across the river," said Spot.

Jack chuckled and clapped David on the shoulder. "Come on, Dave. Spot's got a borough to rule."

With that, Boots, Jack, and David walked down the docks toward the street.

Spot paced around a bit, tapping his cane on the boards underneath his feet. Most of the newsies went back to swimming or playing cards, but a few stuck around Spot.

"What are you gonna do, Spot?" Grace asked, fiddling with the cuff of her shirt, her eyes following Spot.

"Wait for them to prove that they got what it takes," said Spot. "Until then, just keep doin' what you're doin'."

"We keep sellin' papes?" Blaze asked.

Spot nodded. "We gotta eat, don't we?"

Spot tapped his cane and stared at Manhattan across the river, thinking.

"Come on, Gracie, let's get some lunch," he said, abruptly turning around.

"So long as you're buyin'," Grace smirking, standing up.

"Don't I always?"

Grace followed him off the docks to Antonio's, their usual lunch joint. They sat in their usual spot, and the waiter didn't even bother to ask them for their order. He just put in for their usual lunches.

"So what do you think?" Spot asked, leaning back in the booth.

"I say we go for it," said Grace. "I mean, if Manhattan is already on board, and they're rallying the rest of the kids in the city, what's the harm of joining them?"

"I don't think Pulitzer is gonna listen to them," said Spot. "There are thousands of kids in this city. All of them would jump at the chance to make some money, no matter how little."

"I think if we could get all the kids in the city, like the Mouth said, we got a good shot," said Grace.

"That's key," said Spot. "We need all the kids on board with us, so he's got no one to sell his papes. But I don't think they can do it. Too many hungry kids need that money."

Spot sipped his water as the waiter brought their food. Turkey sandwich for Grace, roast beef sandwich for Spot.

"It's worth keepin' an eye on," said Spot. "If I see they mean business, Brooklyn will help 'em out."

"You know the other Brooklyn leaders are with you," said Grace, swallowing her bite. "Navy Yard, Red Hook, Coney, Flatbush…And as much as they loathe to admit it, Queens will follow your lead too."

Spot nodded, taking another bite and mulling the situation over in his head. He furrowed his brow and swallowed. "I'm surprised Race didn't come over with them."

Grace shrugged. "Maybe Jack sent him somewhere else."

"He hasn't come over in a while," Spot said, frowning a bit.

Grace shrugged. "You're always busy," she said. "I usually walk with him for a few blocks when he's on his way to the track."

Spot ate in silence for a few moments.

"You've got savings, don't you?" Spot asked.

"Some," said Grace.

"Good," said Spot. "You'll need it if we go through with this strike. Come to me if you run out, okay?"

"I'll be fine," said Grace.

Spot smirked. "Always the independent one."

"I learn from the best." She winked at him.


	2. A Proposition

The sweltering afternoon heat bore down on the Brooklyn docks. Most of the newsies found relief swimming in the East River while others found it in small spots of shade.

"Spot come back yet?" asked Blaze, walking up behind Grace.

Grace shook her head, playing solitaire. "I think he's still in Manhattan. With Jack turning into a scab, they need all the help they can get."

"You think I should send some boys over to help?" he asked.

"Not my call. Spot left you in charge, not me."

"Well, Spot's always talkin' to you about decisions. You think he'll be comin' back any time soon?"

"I ain't his keeper," said Grace.

"Surprising, since he seems to be your keeper." He looked over her shoulder. "Black ten to the red jack." He sat next to each other. "So, you doin' okay?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

"This strike ain't been easy. I know you're hungry."

"We're all hungry."

"I know you're too proud to ask Spot for help."

"So?"

"So, you probably had to dig into your secret stash to feed yourself. It's hard to live off stale bread and water once a day from the nuns."

"If you have a point, then get to it." Grace sighed.

Blaze put his arm around her, resting his forearm on her shoulder. "I still got savings."

"Good for you," Grace sighed, leaning away from him. Her stomach grumbled, as if she needed another reminder that she hadn't eaten since early that morning.

"Hungry?" Blaze chuckled and leaned in so his lips were right next to her ear. "You could work for it."

Grace paused and then looked at him.

"Come on," Blaze said quietly. "Let's get you something to eat."

"Get lost, Blaze."

Blaze chuckled. "Alright. But when you get hungry enough…you know where to find me."

With the he stood up and walked away.

Grace watched his retreating figure. She chewed on her lip, thinking. She hadn't eaten a real meal since the day Brooklyn joined the strike, eight days ago. She managed to get some food from the nuns every morning, and resorted to digging through trashcans for discarded food when Spot wasn't around.

"How many solo rounds have you played since the strike started?" said a familiar voice behind her.

Grace grinned and turned around to see Racetrack standing there.

"Too many," she said. She stood up and walked over. "It's about time you made it over here." She gave him a hug.

"Well, you know…lots of stuff going on back home," said Race. "You hungry? Want to get something to eat?"

"Um…I already ate today," said Grace.

"Ya still gotta eat dinner," said Race. "Come on. My treat. I won big at the track today."

Grace raised her eyebrows as she walked along with him. "You been on strike for over a week and still scrounge up money to place a bet?" Grace shook her head. "You're a character, Higgins." Grace winked.

Race smirked and shrugged.

"So is Spot still over there with your boys?" Grace asked.

Race nodded. "He'll probably be there the next couple days. We're trying to keep the strike goin' even though Jack went scab." He scowled at the name.

Grace shook her head. "I can't believe he did that. He was the one who came over here beggin' for Spot's help. Now Spot's doin' his job for him."

"You should come over and stay with us," said Race. "It would be nice to see you more."

Grace shrugged. "I like stayin' around here. It's home."

Race smirked. "Got a fella around here?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "No."

"You sure? Coz I heard a rumor you and Spot…"

"It's just a rumor, trust me. In fact, it's that rumor that prevents any guy from coming near me." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her mind leapt to her earlier conversation with Blaze.

Race looped his arm through hers. "Don't worry…Spot Conlon won't be around forever…and the right guy would stand up to him for you."

* * *

Grace walked through the boys' bunkroom to the attic stairs, which led to her tiny room.

"Have a good dinner, Gracie?" Blaze smirked from his bed.

"Don't call me that," said Grace. Only Spot and Race called her that.

Blaze quickly glanced around and saw the other boys not paying attention.

"I heard Spot's gonna stay in Manhattan for the next few days," he said, walking to the foot of the stairs.

Grace stopped halfway up the stairs and turned around. "So?"

"So…." He winked.

She shook her head. "No."

"You got lucky today, Higgins probably bought your meal, didn't he?" he said. "But tomorrow will be another hungry day…"

"I'll manage." She climbed the rest of the way to her room and flopped down on her bunk.

Blaze was right. She had no idea where her next decent meal would come from. Her dinner with Race had filled her, but by morning the familiar dull ache of hunger would be back.


	3. A Lot of Money

Grace lay on her back, the sheet pulled up to cover herself. She had expected to feel regret. She had expected to feel shame. She had expected Blaze to act colder or rougher. Instead, she just felt full and sleepy.

After two nights of crying herself to sleep because she was so hungry, she gave in to Blaze's proposal. She hadn't expected him to be so nice about it. He took her out to dinner, and made sure she was well fed. She had no idea where he got his money from, but she didn't care.

She'd grown up with the Brooklyn boys, and knew they were just hard shells with soft centers, but she hadn't expected this soft of a center. Blaze and she talked all through the evening, and for a while, it almost began to feel like a date.

He'd taken her on a long walk along the river to help her feel at ease. When they got back to the lodging house, Blaze was completely discreet. They came in off the street at different times, and Blaze made sure all the boys were asleep before sneaking up to her room.

She was brought back to the present by movement next to her. Blaze lay next to her, propped up on his elbow, looking down at her.

"You okay?" he asked, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on her shoulder.

Grace nodded.

"Did I hurt ya?"

"A little."

"Sorry about that. I heard that's how it is for girls."

Grace chewed on her lip.

"This was fun, though. Okay if I come up and we do it again some time?"

Grace didn't say anything. Blaze reached over into his pants pocket and pulled out a coin. He set the coin in her hand. "I'll see you around." He leaned down and gave her a kiss at the base of her neck before rolling off the bed and getting dressed.

Grace looked at the coin he put in her hand. It was a silver dollar. She looked at it, wide-eyed, and then back up at him.

"Blaze, this…this is a lot of money."

Blaze shrugged. "It was your first time." He winked. "Sleep well, doll." He headed toward the door.

"Blaze?" she said softly.

He turned around.

Grace swallowed before speaking. "Come back anytime."

Blaze smirked and winked again before he slowly and silently crept downstairs to the bunkroom.

Grace held up the silver dollar, inspecting it in the moonlight. Could one night's work really bring in so much money? She should have felt sick over what she'd just done – instead, she thought of breakfast in the morning. She was going to march right down to Antonio's and order a big plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

* * *

Grace walked across the bridge into Manhattan. She found Greeley Square quickly and saw Race shooting dice with some of the boys.

"You're not using your loaded dice on these poor boys, are ya?" Grace walked up to the group.

Race turned around and smirked. "Nah, I only use those on the Brooklyn boys." He stood up and gave her a hug. "Didn't think I'd ever see you on my side of the bridge."

"Yeah, you got a nice place here," she grinned.

"So what are you doin' here?"

"You got a minute?" She took a step to the side and jerked her head.

Race's grin faded as he sensed something serious. "Yeah." He collected his dice and they walked down an emptier side street. "Everything okay?"

"You ever do something you knew was wrong, but…kind of enjoyed it even though you knew you weren't supposed to?"

"Sure," Race shrugged. "I guess."

"How did you…deal with it? I mean, did you not do it again coz it was wrong, or did you keep doing it because it was sort of fun?"

Race shrugged. "I don't know. Why, what's going on?"

Grace crossed her arms and looked down. She had to tell somebody. There were no girls she was close enough with to confide in, and she definitely couldn't tell Spot. But all her life, she felt she could tell Race anything.

"I did something," she lowered her voice. "I got paid to do it." She swallowed. "I needed the money, coz my savings is gone."

Race stopped walking. "Gracie, what did you do?"

Grace bit her lip and averted her eyes. "Um…" She didn't know how to continue.

Race felt his stomach drop. "Gracie," he said, putting an arm around her. "Tell me what happened."

Grace hesitated. "Let's just say…" she started, but couldn't find a good way to finish it.

There was only one thing Grace ever got shy about around Race. He felt anger burn inside him. How could Spot let this happen? "Does Spot know?"

Grace shook her head and looked at him. "No, and please don't tell him."

"If you needed money, why didn't you go to Spot? Why didn't you come to me?"

"Because I've been depending on you two for years, and I want to be able to take care of myself."

"But is it worth it if you have to do it like this?"

"It wasn't so bad…" She shrugged. Race sighed and took off his cap, wiping his forehead. "Please don't tell Spot."

Race sighed. "Just tell me this. Did anyone force you?"

Grace shook her head. "No, I got offered…but it was my choice."

Race put his cap back on. "I don't like this, Gracie."

"You're not gonna tell Spot, right?"

"Tell me what?" They heard behind them. Grace turned and Spot sauntered up to the two. "What are you doin' here, Gracie?" He grinned.

Grace gave hi a tight grin. "Just comin' to see my two friends."

"So what shouldn't Race tell me?"

Grace swallowed. She had to tell him something. She glanced over at Race, who was avoiding Spot's gaze by looking at her.

"I…" Grace slowly exhaled. "I sold some papes."

Spot raised his eyebrows slightly.

"I'm sorry, Spot, but…I was hungry, I hadn't eaten in days, and I had no money…"

"Hey…hey…it's okay, Gracie," said Spot.

Grace felt like every nerve ending in her body was on high alert. She'd never lied to Spot before. She wasn't sure if he'd bought the lie.

"Look, this strike is important, but none of us want you going hungry, okay? But next time, come to me or Race if you need money."

Grace nodded. "I will."

Spot gave her one of his trademark smirks. "Atta girl."

* * *

Later that evening, Grace walked through the bunkroom towards the stairs.

"I heard you went to Manhattan today," Blaze said as she passed by his bed. Grace looked over at him. He was nervous – he tried not to show it, but from his darting eyes and jiggling leg, she knew he was sweating.

"Yep."

Blaze nodded. He wanted to know if she'd seen Spot. He wanted to know if she told. He wanted to know if he should sleep with one eye open that night.

Grace headed up the stairs. "Goodnight!"

An hour later, the boys were asleep in the bunkroom and Blaze quietly crept up to Grace's room.

"Grace?" he whispered.

"Yeah."

Blaze silently walked over and sat down on her bed.

"You know, if he finds out, we're both in hot water," he said.

"Then he shouldn't find out."

Blaze nodded, visibly relaxed. "So…" he ran his hand over her side. "You up for it?"

Grace hesitated before nodding. "Just be gentle like you were last night."

Blaze lay down next to her. "You got it." Grace lay there, fiddling with her hands. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She turned so she was on her side, facing him. "I guess I'm just not used to this." She gestured between them.

Blaze nodded. "Spot sort of keeps you to himself."

"There's nothing between me and him."

"Sure doesn't seem that way," said Blaze.

"Yet you're brave enough to be in bed with me right now?"

Blaze smirked. "If I liked to play it safe, I'd move to Manhattan." He moved and hovered over her, kissing down her neck. "We'll have a little fun this time."

Grace closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations. Blaze was right – Spot kept her to himself to the point where no guy would approach her. She wouldn't have minded had there been something between them, but there wasn't. She adored Spot – she always had, but he didn't seem to reciprocate her feelings. It took Spot leaving the borough and a distracting strike for his second-in-command to dare get near her. It would be one thing if Spot had courted her - if they were a couple – but he just didn't want her seeing any of his boys.

She needed the money, but she also wanted the attention.


	4. What Any Kiss Means

The strike was over. The streets were full of kids. Kids from the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, and all over Manhattan.

The post-strike celebration at Irving Hall was the loudest party the city had ever seen. The party was limited to those who had been with the strike from the beginning.

"Look at this," Race grinned, walking up to Grace. "You in Manhattan, twice in one week."

"Stop the presses," said Grace.

"We did!" Race laughed.

Grace chuckled and rolled her eyes. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough!" Race wandered back over to the bar.

"Make good choices!" Grace laughed.

Spot walked up to Grace, grinning.

"Look at that – a rare Spot Conlon grin," said Grace. From the lazy, unguarded expression, she could tell he'd had a few drinks.

"Only for you," he winked, putting his arm around her. He glanced around. "Come 'ere." He pulled her off to the side. "I wanted to thank you, Gracie."

"For what?"

Spot shrugged. "Everything. I left Blaze in charge while I was gone, but I know you were keeping an eye on things too. And it's easier to make decisions like joining the strike when I got someone to talk through it with…knowing I got someone in my corner, even if things turn sour."

Grace smiled. "You're stuck with me, Conlon."

Spot smirked and pulled her closer. "That's the way I want it to be." He paused. "You know I'm not good at saying these kinds of things, Gracie, but…" Spot hesitant for a second before leaning in and kissing her. His lips on hers stirred something inside of her she never knew existed, even if he tasted like liquor.

When he pulled away, Grace had tears in her eyes and a sad, confused, worried look on her face.

"What's wrong?"

"What was that?" asked Grace.

Spot smirked. "It was a kiss, Gracie. I know your ma explained that much to you before we ran away."

"I know that," said Grace. "I just meant…what did it mean?"

Spot shrugged. "What any kiss means, I guess."

Grace felt tears sting her eyes. Spot had always been her ideal – the boy that every other boy got compared to. The boy she never thought she'd have, and now he was holding her and kissing her.

Part of her was elated and soaring high. The other part of her was the small, nagging voice in the back of her head, reminding her of what she had done to make money during the strike. Reminding her that if Spot knew, he'd be furious.

"Excuse me," she said, turning away before the tears could fall. She didn't look behind her; she just lost herself in the crowd, wiping her tears as soon as they fell. She made her way to the bar in the back.

"Heya, Gracie," Blaze walked up behind her and put his arm around her. "In the mood to celebrate?"

"No," said Grace, shrugging his arm off her.

"Oh come on," Blaze put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She smelled liquor on his breath too. That explained why he'd make so brazen a move with Spot in the same room.

"Look, the strike is over. I'm sellin' papes again. I don't need to make money that way."

"But you're so good at it," Blaze smirked, rubbing the small of her back.

"There are plenty of other places in town you can get yourself taken care of."

"Yeah, but you're right in my own attic. Come on…I'll pay double."

"No." She pushed him away.

"What's wrong? We've been having a great time this past week. Why you so sour all of a sudden?"

He was right. She had begun to enjoy herself with him…and the couple other boys who'd found out what she'd been doing. All of them were gentle and sweet with her, despite their tough demeanor on the street. And they were completely discreet. But Spot's kiss changed all of that. Her feelings for him had lain dormant inside of her for so long, and now they were being shaken awake.

"I can't do it anymore," she said.

Blaze frowned. "What do ya mean? Why not?"

"It's complicated, okay?"

"You ain't gonna tell him, are you?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot."

Spot walked up to her and put his arm around her waist.

"You ran away back there, everything okay?" Spot asked, pulling her close.

Grace glanced up to see a look of panic cross Blaze's face for a few seconds before he masked it with his poker face.

"Yeah," Grace grinned at Spot. "Just…a lot going on, I guess."

"Come on…" Spot took her hand and led her away. She gave Blaze one last glance before following Spot.

For a split second, she considered telling him. Spilling the entire truth about what she did and why she did it. It would cost nothing except a few private moments of dignity. She knew Spot would pull her into his arms, tell her it's not her fault that Blaze conned her into it, and Blaze would be out of the lodging house.

But she would lose her flow of income – more income than she made as a newsie. And she would be lying to herself if she said she didn't enjoy it. For years, no one came near her, for fear of Spot's wrath. Now the boys were practically lining up to give her some attention.

All of those thoughts were pushed out of her mind when Spot's lips met hers once more.


	5. Thrown Out

"Where'd you get money like this?" Spot asked, holding up her small coin pouch. He stood in the middle of her room in the attic.

"What are you doing going through my things?" Grace asked. Panic began to rise in her chest.

"Answer my question first."

Grace crossed her arms. "I don't have to. This is my private property, and I have rights."

"In this house, you have the rights I say you have."

Grace frowned. "What's with the attitude?"

"Answer. The. Question."

Grace shrugged. "I work, I save…"

"Doing what?"

"Spot, I sell papes, just like you."

"Don't lie to me."

Grace didn't say anything, just pursed her lips. She buckled under his gaze, averting her eyes.

"So it's true," Spot said, his voice like ice water. "How many have there been?"

"None of your business."

"This is my lodging house and it damn well is my business."

Grace crossed her arms defiantly.

"If you give me names, I'll let you stay."

Grace narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not gonna kick me out."

Spot raised his eyebrows. "You don't think so?"

"I know so."

"Guess again." Spot tossed her coin bag at her and she caught it. "Gather your things. Get out."

"What?!" Grace frowned.

"You heard me. I want you out of here tonight. Out of my lodging house and out of Brooklyn."

"You can't kick me out!"

"I just did! I ain't gonna have you whoreing yourself out under my roof."

"This ain't even your house! You don't run the place."

Spot gave her a steely look, and Grace knew she crossed the line. She had said it loud enough that every newsie downstairs heard it. She never defied him in front of the others. The house may have belonged to the Children's Aid Society, but every Brooklyn newsie knew that Spot Conlon was in charge. His word was law.

"I want you out of this house and out of Brooklyn. Don't bother coming back." He turned and walked down the stairs.

"I ain't leaving!" said Grace, following him. "They're not gonna let you kick me out."

"Oh yeah?" Spot asked, turning around once he was down in the boys' bunkroom. He held out his arms, gesturing to the newsies scattered around the room. "You think any of them are gonna stand up for you against me?"

Grace didn't bother looking around the room. She knew no one would go against Spot. She didn't want to look at them and see them look away from her. She didn't want to give Spot the satisfaction of knowing whom she'd been with.

"No, they won't," Spot answered for her, slowly closing the distance between them. "Because in order for them to stand up for you, they gotta respect you." He was right in front of her and said in a low voice, "And no one respects a whore."

Grace clenched her jaw, steeling herself against his cruel words. Having her best friend in the whole world stand in front of her, call her a whore in front of all the North Brooklyn newsies, and kick her to the streets changed something inside her. It changed something between them. She stared into his eyes, hoping to see something – some feeling behind them, but all she saw was anger. She tried to keep her breathing even, and keep the tears from falling.

"Now get out," said Spot, his voice low and deadly.

Grace had half a mind to slap him – right there in front of everyone. Had they been in private, she would have done it without a second thought. But she knew better than to disrespect him in front of the newsies.

She turned around and stormed up the stairs. She yanked her pillowcase off her pillow and began filling it with her few possessions.

She walked down the attic stairs into the bunkroom. All eyes were on her, but she kept her eyes forward, not once looking at Spot. She walked down to the lobby and out the door into the night. The windows rattled when she slammed the door shut.

Once she was out of the lodging house and around the corner, she let the tears flow freely. She didn't really have to leave Brooklyn. The Flatbush newsies would let her stay in a heartbeat. Coney Island was too far to walk at night and the trolleys weren't running. There was a lodging house by the Navy Yard Pier, but their leader, Wild Card, lived up to his name – either she'd have the door shut in her face, or be welcomed like a hero. Any other Brooklyn lodging house would take her in, and there would be nothing Spot could do about it. Even if he carried her out of Brooklyn, she could follow him right back into it, just to spite him.

But she had been so hurt by his words that she wanted nothing to do with the territory. She didn't want to be anywhere Spot had any influence.

Nothing had happened between them since he kissed her the week before. No handholding, no dates, and no more kisses. The more Grace replayed the kiss in her mind, the more she remembered the faint taste of liquor on his lips. She began to wonder if he even remembered the kiss. If he even meant it.


	6. Interim

"What do ya mean you kicked her out?" Race frowned.

"I kicked her out," said Spot, lining up his shot with his slingshot. "Out of the house and out of Brooklyn. I'd kick her out of the state, if I could." He let the marble fly and the tin can he'd been aiming at went flying.

Race took off his hat and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. "Damn."

Spot looked over at Race. "So you knew, huh?"

"What?"

"You haven't asked me why I kicked her out, which means you knew what she was up to."

Race sighed. "She told me."

Spot cursed under his breath. "Did everyone know but me?"

"No," said Race. "I talked to some of your boys…most of them had no idea until you called her a whore in the middle of the bunkroom."

Spot inwardly winced at the memory. Remembering that night tore him up inside. He'd gone up to the roof to get some time alone to think. He had been trying to figure out how to talk to Grace about their kiss the night the strike ended. They'd grown up together and were the best of friends. He wasn't sure how to handle such a change in the relationship, much less what she would think about it.

Knots and Pip hadn't seen him up there when they'd started talking about Grace – how good she was and how much she charged. Spot couldn't believe it. There was no way his Gracie would ever do something like that. It made him sick to think she'd been with any other man, much less multiple men – really, any man other than him. To have those men be his own newsies was even worse.

So, out of nothing else than pure jealousy and the insatiable need to disprove what his boys were saying, he went snooping. And what he'd found broke his heart.

Race broke him out of his thoughts. "So what are you gonna do about your boys?" Race asked.

Spot sighed. "I found out about two of them. Gave 'em a good soakin' before kickin' them out of Brooklyn. I know they knew who the others were, but they wouldn't blab."

"You want me to ask around?"

Spot shook his head. "All the boys know that tellin' you is as good as tellin' me. But I'll tell you this – as soon as I do find out who she was with, they're gonna meet the business end of my cane before I kick 'em out of Brooklyn."

* * *

"He called me a whore," said Grace.

"He did not!" Medda said, turning around in her chair.

Grace nodded. "He hates me now."

Gracie sat on a chaise in Medda's dressing room as Medda sat at her vanity, getting ready for her next show.

"He doesn't hate you," said Medda. "You know Spot Conlon better than anyone. When he's sad, hurt, insulted, embarrassed…what is his reaction?"

"Usually to punch something."

Medda opened her palms. "Exactly." Grace rolled her eyes. "When he found out his best friend was sleeping with his newsies in his own attic, he was hurt. He was embarrassed. He was insulted. So he got angry, and that's why he kicked you out."

Grace sighed and leaned back.

"Have you talked to him since that night?" Medda asked.

Grace shook her head. "No," she said. "I haven't seen him at all. Or any of the newsies. I just came straight here. I doubt any of them even know where I am."

"Is that how you want it?" Medda asked softly.

"Sort of. I mean, it's not like I want them as customers."

"So you intend to continue…?"

Grace shrugged. "I can't go back to bein' a newsie now. By now, I'm sure word has spread to all of Brooklyn, and pretty soon that news is going to come across the bridge."

Medda finished her make up and turned around once more. "If you're sure this is what you want to do, please let me help you find a good place. One where the clients are semi-respectable and where they take care of the girls."

Grace gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Medda."


	7. You're Good

A week later, Spot stood in the lobby of the house. It was the exact house Medda had told him about, but it felt so wrong. He could hardly believe Grace would be in a place like this – he had to see it to believe it. Even though he had kicked her out of Brooklyn, he never expected her to keep on the new career path.

"Heya doll," one of the girls sauntered up to him wearing nothing but a slip and a silk robe. "Lookin' for some company tonight?"

"Actually I'm lookin' for a specific girl," said Spot, his hat in his hand. "Grace?"

"The new girl? Oh sure, she's here," she said. "If she ain't down here, she's probably upstairs still gettin' ready."

Spot nodded. "Thanks."

The girl winked and walked away. He glanced up the stairs and saw her walk down. She wore a thin satin dress that clung to all of the curves her street clothes covered up. With her hair and make up done, she looked like the woman she had grown into, not the girl he had grown up with. Seeing her like that stirred something inside of him. Part of him was still angry with her for what she'd done under his roof, but the other part of him missed her desperately.

As she scanned the room, she locked eyes with him.

"Spot," Grace said, standing there in shock. She froze on the stairs. Spot was standing in the foyer of the house, leaning casually against the counter the madame usually stood at. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too," said Spot, pushing himself off the counter and walked over to her.

"What are you doing here?" Grace's voice went from shocked to angry.

Spot rested his elbow against the railing. "One guess."

Grace clenched her jaw. "Well, there are a lot of pretty girls here. Take your pick." She brushed past him.

"I already have."

Grace stopped and turned toward him. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"Because you're…we're…no!"

Spot raised his eyebrows. "Is business that good that you can turn down a payin' customer?"

Grace swallowed. She hadn't been working long enough to get a reputation or any regulars, and was still having trouble making ends meet. She couldn't afford to turn him down. With a dull pain in the pit of her stomach, she started up the stairs. "Come on up."

The idea of being with Spot made Grace more nervous than she had been with Blaze her very first time. They walked into her bedroom.

"Nice," Spot nodded, looking around at the lavishly decorated room. "Definitely a step up from your attic."

Grace didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. Spot closed the door and walked over to her and stood close in front of her. Very close.

Spot could sense her mood. "Relax. It's just me."

"Exactly. It's you. The boys were one thing. Strangers are another, but you…you're—"

Spot cut her off with his lips on hers. She couldn't count the men she'd been with in the past few weeks, but none of them had kissed her like this. None of them had made her feel what she was feeling in that moment. His kiss made her feel wanted, desired; like he was telling her that she was the only woman for him. Grace felt fire in her. After fighting her feelings for so long, she decided to give in, and chalk it up to good acting.

She was going to make him regret kicking her out.

* * *

Spot said nothing as he got dressed. Grace rolled out of the bed and put on a robe, watching him silently as she tied the sash.

Spot kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

Grace raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you're gonna come back?"

"Probably." He put his cap on and winked at her. "You're good." With that, he opened the door, set his coins on the small table next to the door, and walked out, which was a good thing, since his comment made Grace want to strangle him.

As soon as the door closed, Grace collapsed into tears. She wasn't sure how she felt about the encounter. It was enjoyable; there was no doubt about that. Spot definitely knew what he was doing. He had been more attentive and solicitous than any of her other customers.

She wasn't sure about him coming back. It would be easy to fall for a man who treated her like that, even if he did pay her. His passionate kisses didn't match his cavalier attitude as he left.

She'd been working in the brothel a little over a week, but she had yet to feel as used as Spot made her feel at the end. She'd given him everything, and she knew he did the same. Then he just left. The small pile of coins still lay on the door side table. She didn't even want to touch the money.

Lying in Spot's arms, she'd gotten a glimpse of what life with him would have been like. It was a good glimpse – falling asleep in his arms, waking up to those blue eyes and that smirk that always made her feel warm inside, feeling all the love he had to give.

She couldn't get out of her head the way he kissed her. As a rule, she never let her customers kiss her on the mouth - but this was Spot. While she'd never known any other kiss than Spot's, she knew it was like none other. He kissed her with all the intensity he always kept bottled up inside.

* * *

Spot stepped out of the house into the chilly air. He pulled his jacket closer around him and began the walk home.

He'd been a jerk to Gracie. They both knew it. But what was he supposed to do? Stay and cuddle with her all night? People don't do that in whorehouses. He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to, though.

Gracie had always been his best friend. He always wanted to be the only man in her life, even when they were young. As kids, they both had gotten an early taste of how cruel the world could be. His mother had died in childbirth, so Spot lost both his mother and his newborn baby brother in the same day. Soon after - almost too soon - his pop got remarried to the witch and she began popping out her little witch babies.

Spot was miserable until that fateful spring day. Gracie and her ma moved into their apartment. It had been too expensive for the Conlons to live there on his father's salary alone, especially after the witch began having babies. They rented their second bedroom out.

Grace and Spot had taken an instant liking to each other. From the start, they were inseparable. Spot had always enjoyed lording it over Gracie that he was 5 and a half months older than her, making it his job to protect her.

Especially after her ma got sick. The witch did nothing to help her out - she only cared that the rent got paid. When Grace's mother died, Spot knew exactly what would happen. Not wanting to be saddled with the financial burden of another child that wasn't hers, the witch contacted an orphanage. Spot got Gracie packed and grabbed some things for himself and they snuck out when the witch thought he was helping her pack for the orphanage.

They were footloose and fancy-free. It was the two of them against the world, with Racetrack Higgins, the tagalong. Life was hard, but it was good. They were cold, hungry, and homeless, but they had each other.

Then they turned 14. Grace hadn't changed. Spot hadn't changed. But suddenly he began to look at his best friend in a new light. Maybe it was because he saw the looks the other guys have her. Or maybe it was because her clothes had begun to fit her differently. Whatever it was, when he became leader, he made it clear that she was off limits.

Looking back, he'd been an idiot to not just ask her to be his girl. This was his Gracie - if she hadn't wanted to, she would've been sweet about it. If she had, they would've saved themselves this whole mess.

But he had kissed her, hadn't she? Didn't that count for something? Although she hadn't reacted quite the way he'd hoped. Looking back on the night with hindsight, a lot of things made sense. Why she'd looked so sad and confused. Why she'd run away. Suddenly he realized that she had felt the same way about him, but he was too late. She'd already begun working.

Now what was he supposed to do? He certainly couldn't tell her how he felt. He'd come close to saying something to her when he was still in her bed. There was a brief moment where she was in his arms, their bodies were tangled together, and he could feel her warm breath against his collarbone and her soft hair against his cheek. In that moment, he was happier and more content than he'd ever been before. Her voice moaning his real name echoed in his mind. He wanted to stay there all night, whispering all the reasons he loved her into her ear. Making all the promises he wanted to fulfill in her life. Calming every fear she might have.

But instead, he'd acted like an idiot and instead of saying, "I love you" or "please come back," he said, "you're good" and promised to return. On his way out, he paid her triple her rate. He thought it might soothe his conscience, but instead it made him feel sick. No amount of money he could give her would be enough because their time together was priceless. She was priceless.

By the time he arrived at the Brooklyn Lodging House, he felt worse than he thought he would have. He walked through the lobby, up the stairs, and straight to his bunk, ignoring all of his newsies. He kicked off his shoes and rested his arm over his eyes, blocking out everything but the memories of the last hour with Grace.


	8. Gin

"Gin!" Grace grinned, laying her cards down.

"Dammit," said Race, throwing his cards down onto the corner of the chaise. Grace knew he hadn't even tried. Ever since she'd moved into the brothel, he had been letting her win.

"Want to play something else?" Grace asked, gathering the cards.

"Nah, just shuffle 'em up a bit more this time."

They heard moaning and groaning from the next room over.

Race sighed and crushed the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray. "I wish you'd get out of here."

Grace shrugged. "I like it here. It ain't so bad."

Race gave her a look. "You gotta be kidding me."

Grace rolled her eyes. "After Spot kicked me out, there was no other place for me to go. I can't go back to bein' a newsie after that."

"You coulda stayed with us."

Grace laughed. "For maybe two nights before my reputation made it over the bridge. Besides, Kloppman wouldn't allow it."

"Have you seen Spot since that night?" Race asked.

"No," Grace lied, not taking her eyes off her cards. If she looked at him, Race would know she was lying. She didn't need to give Race one more reason to want to soak Spot.

Race looked at her. "You know, you stick your chin out just a little bit every time you lie."

Grace looked up at him. "So?"

"So Spot comes to see you?"

Grace didn't say anything.

Race threw down his cards. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Calm down, you are not," said Grace.

"Yeah, I am. First he doesn't take care of you during the strike. Then he kicks you out of Brooklyn, now he comes here and…"

"Business is business." Grace shrugged.

Race sighed. "This makes me sick."

The clock chimed. "Time to go," she said softly, gathering the money she'd won from him that night. "You know, you lose more money letting me win at cards than if you just paid me for my time."

"I ain't payin' you. I'm not supportin' this…lifestyle you've chosen." Race gathered his cards and pocketed them.

They stood up and Grace walked him to the door. "Thanks for comin' by."

Race nodded. "Take care of yourself, Gracie."

Race opened the door and walked out. He walked down the dim hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby full of girls and their clients, and out the door.

He stood on the stoop and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke into the cool night air. He stepped down and looked up at the house. To any passerby, it was any other middle-class house. A small plaque at the entrance was the only advertisement. He walked down the streets, heading back to the Lodging House.

Race walked down the block towards home. He wondered if she chose a place so close to both the bridge and the Manhattan Lodging House on purpose. She could make twice the money up in the Tenderloin District, and she had the moxy to get herself a job there. But she'd be in different newsie territory, and much farther away from Brooklyn. It was like she was staying close to Brooklyn just to spite Spot.

He passed the entrance to the bridge on his way home. He looked at the gothic arches, barely illuminated by the lights along the suspension lines.

He remembered the countless hours he spent with Grace and Spot, roaming the streets of Brooklyn, yelling off the bridge, throwing rocks and twigs off the bridge. They would sell papers before and after school to bring in a little extra money for their families. Grace, being a girl, would get more sympathy buys than Race and Spot, so they had a partnership set up, as well as a system for splitting the money. On weekends they would buy their papers and sell their way to Sheepshead or Coney Island before enjoying a couple hours on the boardwalk.

Race took one last drag off his cigarette and threw the butt on the ground, crushing it with the toe of his shoe. That had been before. Before they all ran away. Before he'd left Brooklyn. Before the strike.

He walked along the street, kicking a pebble with him as he walked. Before he realized it, he was back home.


	9. More Than a Pretzel Peddler

Spot sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his pants on.

"Why do you keep comin' back?" Grace asked.

"What, you don't want me to come around no more?" he asked, standing up to button his pants.

"It's not that," said Grace. "It's just…I don't know."

Spot shrugged, sliding his boots on. "If you were a pretzel peddler, I'd walk to Manhattan for lunch. If you were a bootblack, I'd come get my shoes shined."

"This is very different than selling pretzels or shining shoes," she said.

"Gracie, just because you did what you did, doesn't mean I don't care about what happens to you."

"It just means I'm not allowed to step foot inside the boundaries of Brooklyn." She rolled her eyes.

Spot scanned the room, looking for his shirt.

"Looking for something?" she said from behind him.

Spot turned around. She sat there, leaning back against the ornate headboard, wearing his blue shirt. The sheets were tangled around and over her lap. She had the smirk that always got under his skin – in the best way.

"Hand it over," he sighed.

"Oh come on," she said, moving forward until she was lying on her stomach. "You're always rushing off so quickly afterwards."

"Because by now I'm sure word has made it to Race that I'm here, and I don't need any more complications."

"What complications?" she asked, tilting her head.

Spot rolled his eyes. "I don't want him knowin' I come to see you."

"Why is that?"

"Because you're like a sister to him and he'd kill me if he knew I…employed your services."

"They're good services, huh?" She smirked and winked. She wasn't about to let on that Race already knew Spot visited her. "Besides, if you wanted to avoid complications, you shouldn't have kicked me out of Brooklyn."

"Look, I don't come here to get sassed, okay?" snapped Spot.

Grace's mouth turned into a straight line. "So that's how it is? You don't come here to see me. You don't come here because I'm your friend. You just come for sex."

"Gracie, you know that's not—"

"Take your damn shirt." She pulled off his shirt, throwing it at his face. She pulled up the sheet to cover herself.

Spot sighed. "You know I had to do it. I had no choice."

"Neither did I."

"You did and you know it." He gave her a steely look.

Grace looked down. "Things are different now. You're different now," Grace said softly.

"Sex does that," said Spot, putting his shirt on.

"I don't like it."

"You chose this life." He adjusted his suspenders before leaning onto the bed to give her a kiss on the cheek. "See you later, doll."

Grace didn't say anything as he walked out the door, putting a handful of coins on her small table as he did so.


	10. Be a Man

Race walked across the bridge and toward the docks where Spot usually hung out between editions.

"Hey Race," Spot smirked when he saw him coming.

"Hiya Spot," said Race, walking over.

"On your way to the track?"

"Nah, no good races today."

"So this is a social call?" Spot raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to talk to you about Gracie."

"What about her?" Spot asked.

Race sighed and took off his hat. "What do you think you're doin'?"

Spot threw him a glance. "Do you need me to spell out what she does?"

Race rolled his eyes. "Come on, you know that girl has always been a little hung up on you. Now you're goin' to see her over there?"

Spot shrugged. "Just supportin' a local businesswoman."

"That's sick, Spot. Look, you can drop the tough guy attitude, this is me you're talkin' to," said Race. "You and I go farther back than any of your newsies."

Spot sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me you're not gonna go jerkin' Gracie's chain anymore. Be a man about this."

"And do what? Ask her to be my girl?" Spot shook his head. "You know I don't share."

"Then get her out of there!"

"She ain't gonna go back to bein' a newsie after making money like that."

"So what are you gonna do?"

Spot sighed. "Look. It's not like I don't care about her. It's Gracie. She's…" Spot trailed off. He shook his head. "There's no way she and I could be together. She's a workin' girl and she enjoys it. I'm not one to share my girl with anybody. So when I visit…" he shrugged, "I can pretend for an hour or so. It's the closest I can get to us being together."

"Jeezus, Spot, then get a real job, and get her the hell out of there!"

"She's not my responsibility! She made her choice, and now we're all gonna have to live with that. She wanted to be able to take care of herself, and that's what she's doing! You know how it is trying to change her mind about anything."

Race grabbed his hat and put it on. "If that's how you're gonna look at it, then you don't deserve her."

Spot glared at Race as he walked away, but deep down, Spot knew Race was right.


	11. Recovery

Spot walked up to the nondescript house and opened the door.

"Mr. Conlon," the madam greeted him with a smile. "Second time this week. Sounds like some one up there is doing a good job." She winked.

Spot chuckled. "What can I say, you run a fine place here." Spot nodded towards the stairs. "Is she with somebody?"

"Yes, but she's not workin' tonight."

Spot gave her a look. "She ain't workin', but she's with somebody?"

"She's recovering."

Spot's grin faded. He knew the code. There was only one thing these girls ever got to take time off to recover from.

"Can I see her?" asked Spot.

The madam shrugged. "You can try. The midwife got her on some drugs for the pain, so she may be a little out of it."

Spot walked up the stairs and down the hall to Grace's room. He lightly knocked on the door and opened it.

"Gracie?" he called quietly.

"I ain't workin' tonight," came the response. Spot peeked into the room and saw Grace curled up in a ball on her bed, her back to him. Race sat in a chair next to the bed, smoking.

Spot always prided himself on being able to distance himself from anything that happened. He was fair, he was just, and he could be charitable when he knew it would benefit him. But seeing Grace in the bed like that gave him a feeling in his gut he was unfamiliar with. He couldn't fix it for her. He couldn't save her from it.

"I know," said Spot. "The madam told me. I just came to check on you."

Grace didn't say anything. The only movement was the slight rise and fall of her breathing.

Race stood up and walked over to Spot.

"What are you doin' here?" Spot asked.

"She sent for me," said Race.

Spot looked at him for a few beats before he nodded. "How she doin'?"

Race shrugged. "Hard to say. She's been pretty shaken up ever since she found out she was…you know…"

"So you were here when they…"

Race nodded.

"Good," Spot said quietly. "I'm glad she wasn't alone."

"They got her on a few things to kill the pain…it's been makin' her pretty chatty, but the madam says she probably won't remember any about tonight in the morning." Race glanced back at Grace and walked over. "I gotta go sell, Gracie," said Race. "I'll come by later, okay?"

Grace nodded. "Thank you, Race."

Race squeezed her hand before heading towards the door.

"Don't start a fight with her tonight, okay?"

Spot rolled his eyes as Race walked out the door. Spot walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Can I get you anything?"

Grace shook her head.

Spot didn't know what to say. This was unfamiliar territory for him. The last time something this traumatic happened to Grace was when her ma died – even then, Spot could do something. He helped her pack a bag and they ran away. But this? There was nothing he could do.

"Well, it's better than the alternative, right?" Spot asked.

Grace rolled onto her back and looked at him. "It could have been yours, you know."

"It could've also been a dozen other men's."

"It could have been Knots'. Or Delancey's. Or Mush's."

"Gracie…" Spot didn't want to hear who she'd been with that he knew.

"Or Blaze's. He was the first."

"Grace, stop," Spot said firmly. He had always been a staunch supporter of her strict 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy when it came to her clients. He didn't want to know which of his boys she'd been with.

It took a minute to process her last statement. "Wait, Blaze was your first?" he asked.

Grace nodded. "He was the one who suggested I could make money from him," she said.

Spot felt his blood began to boil. Blaze. He never dreamed that betrayal would come from so close to his inner circle. He was hardly surprised, though. Blaze was always trying to gain an upper hand or somehow usurp Spot. In one small way, he had finally succeeded.

"Will you stay here tonight?" Grace said softly.

Spot looked down at her. Her eyes were glassy from the painkillers, but he could tell she still hurt – in more ways than one.

"I'll be right here all night."

Grace smiled lazily. "Do you remember on bad nights, I would crawl out my bed…sneak across the apartment and crawl into your bed?" said Grace. Spot nodded. "I always knew that when I was with you, I was safe. You always looked out for me."

"I always will," said Spot, running his hand over her hair. "Protecting you got me out of trouble too. I don't think I could've stayed in that apartment any longer with the witch and those babies."

"Those babies are your half-siblings," said Grace. She yawned. "But you didn't protect them."

"That should tell you what you mean to me, Gracie," said Spot. "What you've always meant to me."

Spot saw her eyes fill with tears. "Then why'd you come here?" her voice cracked.

Spot clenched his jaw, keeping his emotions at bay. Seeing Grace cry was always his undoing.

"I knew I'd already lost you," said Spot, taking her hand in both of his. "But I couldn't bear to be apart from you. I didn't know what to do about it."

"And you ain't one to share."

Spot smiled softly. "You know me so well."

Grace yawned again and Spot could tell she was fading fast. "I wish there was some way to know who got me pregnant. If the baby had been yours, I wouldn't have gotten rid of it." She sighed softly, drifting off to sleep.

Spot clenched his jaw and bowed his head, grateful he was alone, so no one would see the stray tears he quickly wiped away. Her words pierced him right to the heart. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get her out of there.

Spot stood up and moved to the other side of the bed. He pulled the blanket up to cover Grace and sat down in the chair Race had been sitting in. He sat and watched her sleep. He didn't care if he sat there for days – he was determined to stay until he knew she was going to be okay again.


	12. Unresolved

"My goodness, what happened to you?" Grace asked, rushing down the stairs.

Blaze stood in the empty lobby of the brothel; bruises and shiners covered his face. It was a slow time of the day. Most of the girls were occupied with businessmen on their lunch hour.

"Your boyfriend put two and two together," he said. Grace furrowed her brow. "He found out about you and me in the attic. Next thing I know, we're in the alley behind the lodging house, and his cane is connecting with my face. You mess with Spot Conlon's girl, you pay the price, no matter who was askin' who."

"Blaze, I'm so sorry. I have no idea how he found out," said Grace, leading him over to a chair.

"Shoulda known you couldn't keep your mouth shut for long."

"What are you talking about? I never told him anything."

"Well, I certainly didn't tell him. And I know Pip and Knots never opened their mouths. Now I'm out of Brooklyn."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Go to Queens. But not before I get one last romp out of you." He stood up and grabbed her arm.

"Blaze, I swear I didn't tell Spot anything." Grace tried to keep up as Blaze dragged her across the room.

"Shut up."

"Why are you acting like this? You never used to-"

Blaze stopped and got in her face. "Well, I never used to be kicked out of my hometown. I used to be the second most respected newsie in Brooklyn. Now I'm starting out at the bottom in Queens."

Grace yanked her arm out of his grasp. "Then you need to take that up with Spot."

Blaze grabbed her around the waist once more. "Oh, I will...but not before I take a little up with you."

"No you won't," said a voice by the door.

Grace and Blaze looked over to see Spot standing there.

"Let her go, Blaze."

Blaze smirked. "You ain't in charge of me no more, Conlon. She's a Manhattan whore. She's fair game."

"Let her go."

"I'm a paying customer."

Spot took out his cane and advanced toward them.

"Spot, don't," said Grace, right before Blaze pushed her off to the side and stood up straight, sauntering towards Spot.

"Pleas don't," said Grace. "If you two brawl, you're going to get _me_ in trouble."

The boys stood toe to toe. Blaze didn't really want to brawl with Spot. Spot didn't want to get Gracie in trouble.

"If I see you in here again, there'll be no borough in New York that will take you in," Spot said, his voice deadly serious.

Blaze, trying to keep a small shred of dignity, side stepped and walked around Spot, bumping him with his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Spot asked once Blaze had left. He walked over to Grace.

Grace nodded. "I'm fine."

"He didn't hurt you?"

Grace shook her head. "He came in ranting about how I told you that he was with me before you kicked me out. I had no idea that you knew."

"I found out a couple days ago."

"How?"

Spot paused. "Do you remember the night I came over and you were recovering?"

Grace hesitated, thinking. "I remember Race came over that day and I was in a panic…I don't remember anything after they laid me down. Then I remember the next morning and you were asleep in the chair. Why? What's that got to do with anything?"

Spot took her hand, rubbing the back with his thumb. "You got a little chatty that night…"

"Oh no…" Grace put her face in her hands. "I was the one who blabbed?"

Spot nodded.

"Why'd you have to beat him so bad?" she asked, sitting down on the sofa. "Jeez, Spot, he looked awful!"

Spot sat next to her. "He deserved it. He took advantage of you."

"No he didn't." Grace shook her head. "He offered, but it was my choice. I went to him."

"Doesn't matter," said Spot.

"Because I was off limits, right?"

"Right!" Spot answered without thinking.

Grace was silent. She and Spot sat there watching each other for a few beats before Spot looked away.

When Grace finally spoke, she did it slowly and purposefully. "Then why were we never together?"

Spot didn't say anything. Grace closed her eyes, trying to accept that she'd never have an answer to that question.

"Well," she stood up, "there's only one reason you came here. Might as well get started." She headed toward the stairs.

"Actually," Spot stood up, "I think I'm gonna head out." Grace turned around. "I got…papes to sell." With that, he walked out the door.

Grace sighed and sat down on the stairs. The afternoon edition wouldn't be out for another hour. She hated when Spot would just leave when things started to get deep. It was like every encounter they had left something unresolved.


	13. Delancey

Grace lay on her back, staring at the canopy above her bed. The only sound in the room came from the adjoining rooms – moans and groans of satisfied customers, interrupted by the striking of a match.

She looked over as he lit the cigarette and then extinguished the match and tossed it in the ashtray next to the bed. "You gonna share?" she smirked.

Oscar Delancey smirked and handed her the cigarette. She took a puff and handed it back to him.

"You're better than they said you were," he said.

Grace looked over at him. "Who said?"

"Those Brooklyn boys."

Grace looked over at him and propped herself back on her elbows. "Which Brooklyn boys?"

"Blaze and Knots." Oscar blew smoke up.

Grace sighed. If Blaze and Knots had run their mouths all over Manhattan, it would be no time at all before every newsie in the city knew. As it stood, only Spot, Race, and a small handful of newsies knew – or so she thought.

"Oscar, please don't say anything to anybody."

"What, you mean like the newsies?" He smirked. "Oh come on…they gotta know what they're missing out on."

Grace sighed and turned away, sitting up. She grabbed her robe and pulled it on. "I think it's time you left."

Oscar frowned. "I'll leave when I want to."

"I have other customers waiting."

"And my money is just as good as theirs, now sit down."

Grace stared him down for a few moments before turning, walking across the room and sitting down at her vanity, facing him. "I'm sitting."

Oscar extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray, stood up and walked over.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Grace followed a smug-looking Oscar down the stairs. She kept her hand over her cheek, trying to make it look like a natural thing to do.

As they neared the bottom of the stairs, Oscar turned and gave her a kiss on her other cheek. "The pleasure was all mine, sweet face." Grace said nothing, just glared at him. "See you around." He turned back around and saw something that made him freeze.

Spot Conlon stood in the lobby, leaning against the bar, watching them.

Oscar smirked at him. "Look at that. She's so good, she's got customers comin' all the way from Brooklyn." Oscar put his jacket on and sauntered out.

As soon as Oscar walked out, Spot walked and met Grace where she was on the stairs. He furrowed his brow.

"Why you holdin' your cheek like that?" he asked.

Grace just shrugged. Spot reached for her wrist, but Grace pushed it away. He frowned and made another quick grab and pulled her wrist away from her face to reveal a red mark on her cheek.

"That bastard," said Spot, turning around and rushing out of the brothel.

"Spot!" Grace rushed after him.

* * *

Grace sat next to Spot on the chaise in her room, holding a slab of meat to his cheek.

"You shouldn't have gone after him," she said.

"I'd go after any guy who hit you," said Spot. "Or any guy who hits a lady."

Grace smirked. "Your pop raised you right."

Spot threw a sideways glance at her. "Does that happen a lot?"

Grace shook her head. "No. The madam has a couple fellas who work here as protection if a guy gets too rough."

"Has a guy ever gotten too rough with you?"

Grace shook her head.

"Good. You'll tell me if they do, right?"

Grace couldn't help but smirk. "Why? Is the big, bad Spot Conlon gonna storm in front Brooklyn and soak 'em?"

"Damn straight."


	14. Choices Were Made

Grace sat at Tibby's with the Jack, Race, David, and Les, eating lunch.

"You think you'll ever make it out to Santa Fe?" Grace asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Jack shrugged. "I dunno. Before the strike, it was all I thought about but now…"

"He's got family here," Les grinned.

Jack chuckled and ruffled Les' hair.

"Hmm," said Grace, chewing.

"Why? Antsy to get rid of me?"

Grace shook her head. "No, I was just thinkin' of a change myself."

Race and Jack shared a look. "You're gonna leave New York?" Race asked.

"Maybe," Grace shrugged. "Out west, they've got houses like mine. Fewer men, but a lot fewer women." She pushed around her fries. "I heard a story about a madam who bankrolled a road building project and owns her own farm. There's money out there."

"What about Spot?" asked David.

Grace's face turned cold. "What about Spot?" she asked him back. "Should I ask every one of my customers what he thinks about me moving?"

"Well, no," said David. "But Spot is…you know…"

"He's what, David?" Grace challenged.

David shrugged. "Nothing, I guess."

"Exactly." Grace bit into her sandwich once more.

The bell over the door to Tibby's rang and Spot walked in.

"Haven't seen you around here lately," said Spot, sitting next to her.

"I could say the same of you," said Grace.

"So what's news?" Spot leaned back in his chair.

"Grace here is talkin' about leavin' New York," said Race.

Grace gave him a look and whispered, "big mouth."

Spot raised an eyebrow and looked at Grace. "You movin'?"

"Thought about it."

"Where would you go?"

"Out west somewhere."

Spot smirked a bit. "Been talkin' to Cowboy here too much."

"There's no future for me here," she said.

"Yeah? Says who?"

Grace looked at him for a few beats, and then turned back to her sandwich. She didn't want to open that can of worms in front of the guys.

"And you think there's a future somewhere else?" Spot asked.

Grace shrugged. "Could be. I got offers, you know."

"Offers?" Spot glanced at her.

"Sure," said Grace. "I get customers all the time who are on their way out of town. Even a few regulars talkin' about leaving and wanting some companionship on the long, lonely train ride out west. They pay my way out there and then we part ways."

"Sounds like a good deal," said Spot. "Then you could brag that you slept your way across the country."

His words stung. He was never that cruel to her in front of others – or in private, for that matter. She looked over at him and as soon as she did, he averted his eyes. He regretted his words, but there was no way he would take them back in front of people. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted to beg her to stay. He wanted her to quit the business and come back to Brooklyn and never leave the borough again. But they were past that.

Grace stood up and walked out.

"You were a little hard on her, don't you think, Spot?" said Race.

"She ain't goin' nowhere," said Spot, eating her abandoned fries.

Deep down, Grace's talk of leaving made Spot nervous. He wanted to think she was as attached to him as he was to her.

* * *

Later, Spot walked to the house and knocked on the door. One of the girls answered.

"Hey, Conlon," the girl said, leaning against the doorjamb.

Spot nodded. "Gracie here?"

"Sure, but she ain't workin' yet. You could come with me. Half price." She winked.

"No, I just need to talk to her."

The girl opened the door wider and he walked inside. He took the familiar route up the stairs and down the hall to Grace's room. He knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Spot opened the door and saw Grace sitting at her vanity, getting ready. She rolled her eyes when she saw him.

"Come to tell me more of how me leaving is a stupid idea that will never happen?" Grace asked, turning back to the mirror.

"No," said Spot. "It's your life. You can do with it what you want."

Grace raised her eyebrows. "I think that's the closest thing to an apology I've ever gotten from you."

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave," said Spot. "But you're certainly welcome to."

"I'm so glad to have your permission."

Spot sighed. "Look, I came here to make peace and you're making it difficult."

"Fine." Grace put her brushes down and turned in her seat to face him. "Make peace."

When put on the spot like that, he didn't know what to say.

Spot sighed. "Ever since the strike…things have been all upside down and backwards. If that damn Cowboy hadn't turned scab, and I hadn't left…or the damn Walkin' Mouth hadn't given Jack the idea to strike, then we wouldn't…you wouldn't…"

"Spot, stop trying to blame all of this one someone else," she said. "This here is about you and me. No one and nothing else. I made my choices, you made yours. Now we're just have to live with them."

"But you wouldn't have done this if…"

Grace threw her hands up and stood up. "Spot! I didn't have to do what I did, but I made the choice to. I could've gone to you. I could've gone to Race. But I didn't. No one forced me to do this."

Spot was silent for a long time. "I guess I'm always gonna think it's my job to protect you."

"I'm a big girl," she said. "I don't need protecting."

"Yeah you do," said Spot, smirking. "You need protecting from stupid ideas like leaving."

Grace rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Oh, come on, Gracie, it was a joke." Spot reached for her hand and pulled her back to him. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Come on. Let's go somewhere. Let's go…I dunno, to Medda's or the Park or somewhere just the two of us."

"I have to work."

"I'll pay the madam for the time."

Grace scrunched up her nose and shook her head. "I don't want you payin' for somethin' like that."

Spot raised an eyebrow. "You'd let me pay for sex, but not to go for a walk?"

"It's different," said Grace. "It would be like you're paying to be my friend. I don't want that part of us mixed up in…" she gestured around them, "this."

Spot sighed. "Fine." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I gotta get goin'." He turned and walked away.

"Spot?"

Spot turned back around once he got to the door.

"Maybe one morning next week, we can go to the Park," she said.

Spot gave her a small grin and nodded. "It's a date."

Grace rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but grin. "Get outta here, I got business to conduct."

Spot winked and walked out the door.


	15. I'll Believe That When I Hear It

"What are you doing here?" Gracie grinned as she bound down the stairs and nearly tackled Race in a hug.

He chuckled, trying to keep his balance. "I came to see if you wanted to come to the track with me. We can grab some lunch, watch a few races."

Grace's grin faded. "You know I can't go into Brooklyn."

"Oh come on, you're not going back. You'll be just walkin' through. I doubt Spot would care..."

Grace shook her head. "He made his choice. In ain't going back."

Race sighed. "Come on, Gracie. I really want to spend the day with you. You and me at the track like old times."

"If you want it like old times, we'd need Spot there."

"We both know that's not gonna happen."

Grace walked to the door and put on her cloak. "Come on. There's plenty of stuff to do in Manhattan. We could head up to the Park, or watch the ships come in near Battery..." She looped her arm through his and they walked out of the brothel into the cool fall air.

"What if I talked to Spot? What if I got him to agree to just let you pass through?"

"It's not about…" she sighed. "Look, Race, you and I are the only two people in the world who have seen Spot Conlon cry. He holds no power over me. If I wanted to, I'd have no problem waltzing on into Brooklyn and staying there until he carried me out. But it's the principle. He kicked me out. I don't want to give him the satisfaction to know that it still bugs me."

Race shook his head. "Every time I think you two couldn't be more opposite, you say something like that and I hear Spot's voice."

Grace rolled her eyes. "You're the same way. He kicked you out too. You didn't move back even when he invited you."

"That's different. I chose not to go back. Besides, Spot had to kick me out – he didn't want to. Once his boys found out I'd been cheatin', there was no way I could've stayed in Brooklyn. Spot knew I did it coz papes weren't movin' too good, but that didn't matter."

"He still let you walk through to get to the track every week."

"Only coz we were friends. His newsies were none too happy about that."

Grace looked down. "You think he'll ever let me come back?" she asked softly.

Race put his arm around her. "I don't know, doll. I didn't break his heart before he kicked me out of town." He paused. "Would you want to move back?"

Grace shrugged. "I really miss it. I miss him."

"He comes to see you all the time."

"But it's different. I miss being his friend. He comes to visit and when we're together…it's incredible. But the last five minutes are always the worst. When he gets dressed, pays me, and leaves…" She blinked and tears streamed down her cheeks. "I always feel so used."

Race stopped and pulled her into a hug. "Gracie, you deserve so much more than that."

"I hate that I love him so damn much. I miss having feelings for him when life wasn't so complicated. I miss living a life with possibility."

"Gracie, nothing is permanent," said Race. "Talk to Spot. Tell him how you feel."

"You don't think I've tried?" her voice cracked. "A couple times I've asked him to stay and he said he can't afford it. I said I wouldn't want him to pay for it, but he says I can't lose money on his account. I'm terrified that if I actually tell him how I feel, he's just going to take whatever I tell him and throw it in the garbage."

"He wouldn't do that to you. Gracie, he really cares about you."

"Yeah," Gracie scoffed, rolling her yes. "I'll believe that when I hear it."


	16. Christmas Eve

"Don't make any plans for Christmas Eve," said Spot, putting a card in the discard pile.

"Too late," said Grace, exchanging a card. "I'm workin' at Medda's that night. The girls tell me Christmas Eve is a slow night, so I'm gonna make some extra money servin' drinks for her."

"Well that works out. The boys and I are gonna be there."

"Perfect." Grace grinned.

There was a hurried knock on Grace's door before a woman's head popped in. "Grace, we got a VIP."

Grace nodded. "Be right out."

"VIP?" asked Spot.

"Very important person," she said, gathering the deck of cards. "Most likely a cop."

"The bulls come here?" Spot frowned.

Grace nodded. "The madame gives them freebies in exchange for them not busting us. So you gotta get lost."

Spot stood up. "I'll come by on my way to Medda's on Christmas Eve and walk you to Irving Hall."

Grace furrowed her brow. "That's out of your way."

Spot shrugged. "I don't mind."

Grace smirked and gave him a kiss on the cheek as they walked out. "See you then." She walked ahead of him and down the stairs.

Spot watched her walk up to the cop, flirt and make small talk, before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs, past Spot.

Spot got an uneasy feeling in his gut. Whatever he was feeling, he didn't like, but he wanted to yank the man away from his Gracie and make sure he never came back.

* * *

The snow fell in thick, soft flakes. Spot took shelter under the eave of the house. He lit a cigarette and shivered, pulling his threadbare coat tighter around him.

"How long does it take to get ready for a lousy party?" he wondered aloud.

The door opened and Grace walked out. "Hey," she grinned. She pulled her new winter coat tight around her.

"About time," said Spot. "How long does it take to get ready to serve drinks to a bunch of newsies?"

"Trust me, you'll thank me when you see the dress I've got on under this coat," Grace winked.

"I'd rather go upstairs and see what you've got under the dress," Spot smirked.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Nothin' you ain't seen before." She walked down the stoop and headed toward Irving Hall. Spot fell into step beside her. This is what he enjoyed – just them, as friends, joking around. Usually the jokes weren't about her naked body, but the feeling was familiar. It made Spot realize how much he missed just being friends with her. How much he wanted to be more than friends with her. He wanted to be the only man in her life. He wanted her back in Brooklyn with him.

* * *

Spot watched her work the room. She chatted and flirted with the men like it was second nature. Seeing her do that gave him the familiar uneasy feeling in his gut. There was only one man he wanted to see her look at like that.

Spot didn't bother to lie to himself. He knew he was jealous. She was his. She had always been his, ever since they were five and she and her mother moved in with the Conlons in their apartment on Flatbush. She was _his_ friend. She always went to _him_ when she was in trouble. That's why he kicked her out when it all came out the night he found out she'd been sleeping with some of his boys for money. He'd been angry and hurt that she didn't come to him when she was in trouble. Kicking her out sent a very clear message to the boys. If Spot couldn't have her, then no one would have her.

She hadn't been in the Manhattan brothel two weeks before Spot paid her a visit. He felt sick about paying her for sex, but at the same time, wanted her so bad. After all that had happened, it would be the only way he could ever be with her.

The night was beginning to wind down. Grace grabbed a drink from the bar and walked over and sat next to Spot.

"When are you done workin' for Medda?" Spot asked.

Grace looked over at him and saw the familiar gleam in his eye. "If you're that antsy, we can go upstairs. I'm sure Medda has an extra room."

Spot shook his head and polished off his drink. "It's Christmas Eve," he whispered in her ear before he stood up and walked off.

Those three words triggered memory after memory for Grace. When they were five, it was their families' first Christmas together. She and Spot stayed up until midnight, laying silent and still, waiting for Santa Claus. When they were seven and Spot got her a present for the first time – a ribbon for her hair. She wore it in her hair every day that year, until a bully from school yanked it out and threw it down a sewer. When they were twelve, it was their first Christmas after running away. Spot scrimped and saved so they could afford as lavish a Christmas dinner as they could afford – a small turkey breast, a scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of stuffing – they had to share. When they were fourteen and the leader of the Brooklyn newsies died in a street fight on Christmas Eve, everyone looked to Spot for guidance, even the older newsies. Last year when they were sixteen, and he'd scrimped and saved enough to buy her a necklace with a tiny pearl pendant – the first piece of jewelry she ever owned.

"Grace…Grace?" Skittery waved a hand in front of her face.

Grace shook herself out of her trance. "Sorry, what?"

"Medda's lookin' for you," he said.

"Oh!" said Grace, fully snapping back to the present. She stood up and walked back to the bar to continue serving drinks.

* * *

Grace stared at the ceiling. Spot lay next to her, catching his breath. The clock chimed 2am.

Spot rolled onto his side and pulled her close to him. She rested her cheek against his shoulder. Spot lazily ran his fingers through her hair.

"Spot?"

"Hmm?"

Grace was quiet for a few moments. "Don't pay for tonight, okay?"

Spot lifted his head and looked at her, but she avoided his gaze. He kissed her temple, holding her close.

"I can't let you lose money."

Grace shook her head. "I don't want you to pay for it. I don't want tonight to just be business."

Spot held her tight, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

"Don't leave, Gracie," he whispered in her ear. "I'll make things better. We can change things.

Grace looked up at him. "You know, when you say things like that, it sounds like—"

"I know what it sounds like," said Spot.

She moved up and kissed him. He cradled her neck and she rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her.

Spot pulled back an inch. "I have to go," he whispered.

Grace looked up at him. She could tell he didn't want to go. She knew he wanted to stay.

"Stay," she whispered.

"I can't."

"Please?"

"Gracie…"

"You really want to trudge two miles through the snow just to sleep on a lumpy mattress in a room full of smelly boys?"

Spot sighed.

"You always leave," Grace continued, "right when things start to get—"

Spot cut her off by pressing his lips against hers, running his hand down her side. For a few moments, Grace thought he might actually stay.

Until he pulled away again.

"Come to Brooklyn tomorrow night," he said.

Grace's face froze in an expression of shock.

"Not to work," said Spot. "I mean if you can't get the night off, I can pay for your time. The Children's Aid Society is givin' us a big Christmas dinner and some Queens and Manhattan guys are comin' to play cards."

"Why?"

"I want you there."

"I haven't been to Brooklyn since the strike," she said.

"I know," said Spot. "It's 'bout time you came home."

Grace considered for a moment and then nodded. Spot smiled softly.

"Will you stay until I fall asleep at least?" she asked.

Spot nodded and settled onto his side, holding her to his chest.

"Merry Christmas, Gracie," he said quietly into her ear.

"Merry Christmas, Spot."

He lazily traced the tips of his fingers up and down along her spine as she drifted off to sleep.


	17. A Night in Brooklyn

"Listen up, boys," said Spot. "Before the other guys get here, I want to make somethin' very clear." The newsies stopped what they were doing to listen to their leader. "Gracie's comin' over tonight. She ain't here to work. She ain't here to drum up business. I want you to treat her the same as when she was a newsie."

"She comin' back to stay?" asked one of the newsies.

"Nope," said Spot. "Just for dinner and cards."

Spot stepped down and the newsies went back to making makeshift poker tables and chairs out of crates and old palettes.

* * *

Grace crossed the bridge, her stomach in knots. She hadn't been to Brooklyn since the night Spot kicked her out. She hadn't seen most of the guys since they found out what she'd done. How would the Brooklyn newsies treat her? How would Spot treat her in front of the others?

She turned down the street toward the hall where the Children's Aid Society would always set up dinners for them. She walked into the hall, unsure of herself. She scanned the room, seeing all familiar faces. She felt leers from the unfamiliar boys and judgmental looks from the girls.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Spot approaching.

"Hey," Spot grinned at her as he put his arm around her waist. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," she said. "It's a little unsettling."

"Don't worry about it," said Spot. "The ones who know about you know better than to open their mouths about it."

"Are you kidding?" Grace scoffed. "The ones who haven't come to me have heard stories from the ones who have. Trust me – they _all_ know."

Spot took her hand and interlaced their fingers.

"Well, well, well," Blaze walked up to them, smirking. "Looks like the old rules are in effect. Spot's Gracie is off limits once more. Don't worry. I'll wait 'til you go back to Manhattan to get some action." He winked at Grace.

Spot stiffened. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Christmas," said Blaze. "Brooklyn invited Queens to come play cards, and since I'm Queens ever since you kicked me out, here I am."

"Step away, Blaze," said Spot, his voice deadly.

Blaze put his hands up in mock defense and backed off a couple steps. "You ain't gonna soak me here and now. And you certainly won't come to Queens and soak me on Queens turf."

"You were always too cocky for your own good."

Every muscle in Spot's body was tense. Grace put her hand on his arm in hopes that he wouldn't lose his temper in the middle of the hall.

Blaze smirked. "You want to make some money tonight, you come find me." He winked at Grace.

"You keep away from her," said Spot.

"She ain't one of yours."

"She's Brooklyn," said Spot. "She's more Brooklyn than you ever were. You keep your hands off her; you don't bother her."

"She's a whore, Conlon."

That was it. Up until that point, every word out of Blaze's mouth had wound Spot up tighter and tighter. His last statement made him snap.

Before anyone realized what was happening, Spot had punched Blaze twice and had him on the ground, pummeling him.

Grace knew better than to intervene. Blaze had it coming. It took three Brooklyn boys to pull Spot off Blaze. The Queens newsies knew better than to retaliate when Spot was soaking their newest member, especially when that member was Spot's former second-in-command.

The Queens newsies pulled Blaze up and he disappeared. The Brooklyn boys got Spot outside to cool off and Grace followed. They were left alone.

Spot squatted on the ground, his forearms on his knees, catching his breath.

Grace sighed. "I shouldn't have come."

Spot stood up and grabbed her hand. "Yes you should have. Please, stay."

Grace gave him a pleading look. "I can't go through that over and over again tonight."

"You won't."

"So you gonna soak every guy who—" She was cut off by Spot's lips against hers. He held her tight against him. His kiss was urgent and passionate; his hold on her was possessive, as if by doing so, he could make her his and only his.

He pulled back an inch and rested his temple against hers; his lips were right next to her ear. "You're not a whore."

"Spot…" Grace wanted to correct him. She wanted to be a smart aleck and remind him what they'd been doing the past five months.

"You're not a whore," he repeated. "You're…" He sighed and buried his face in her neck.

Grace closed her eyes, wanting to melt into Spot. She wanted to stay in his arms forever.

"Come on," she said, pulling back. "Let's go back in and try and enjoy the rest of the party, okay?"

* * *

At the end of the night, Spot walked her out into the cold night air.

"Your bed is still in your room," said Spot.

Grace looked at him. "It's okay. I should be getting home anyway."

Spot grabbed her hand. "Stay," he whispered.

Grace looked down and then away. "Spot, you're the one who laid down the rules. You want it, you're gonna have to come back to Manhattan with me."

"No," Spot rolled his eyes. "I mean I want you to stay there. In the building. Like old times."

"Is this because of what Blaze said?" asked Grace.

"No…well, sorta…I mean, yes and no," said Spot. "I mean, I want you here because I miss havin' you around. And you deserve the night off. And it's Christmas."


	18. Say It

Grace woke up early the next morning. For a split second, the past few months had felt like nothing more than a dream. She heard silence from downstairs, which meant either the boys had already left, or they weren't up yet. She grabbed her coat, put on her shoes, and silently crept down the stairs. As she turned the corner, she saw something that made her stop in her tracks.

Spot was sitting on the bottom stair, his back against the wall, sleeping.

Grace grinned to herself. She knew he'd stayed there all night, so none of this boys would get any ideas about visiting Grace up stairs. She sat on the stair above him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Wake up, guard dog," she whispered.

"Mmm," Spot said, his eyes opening. He looked at her sleepily. "Gracie." He grinned tiredly and stretched. "You sleep okay?"

Grace nodded. "Just like old times."

"Good. What time is it?"

"Just after five," she glanced at the clock in the room.

"Come on," he said, standing up. "Let's get something to eat and I'll walk you home."

Grace followed him out of the bunkroom full of sleeping newsies and out of the lodging house.

Spot took her hand as they walked. Grace grinned to herself, but said nothing.

They got biscuits and coffee from a street vendor and sat on a bench near the bridge to eat.

"Thanks for letting me come back last night," said Grace. "It meant a lot to be able to come home."

Looked over at her for a few beats before he nodded. "This is your home." He looked down and took a bite of his biscuit. "You still thinking of leaving?"

"Thinking about it. I got a customer who wants to go out west within the week."

Spot didn't say anything. He just continued to eat.

Grace chuckled wryly to herself. "You are one challenging individual, Spot."

Spot shook his head. "I like to think I'm pretty simple."

"Why did you invite me back?"

Spot shrugged. "I wanted to have you home again. It's Christmas."

"Is that all?"

Spot looked down and shrugged. "I guess."

Grace looked over at him. "If you say it, I'll stay." Spot looked at her. "All you have to do is say it."

Spot grinned at her. "Say what?" He knew damn well what she wanted him to say.

"What you've been feeling for the past five months. The reason you came to see me in the first place. The reason you stayed with me when I was recovering. The reason for Christmas Eve. The reason you wanted me back in Brooklyn last night." Grace hesitated. She didn't want to lay it all out there for him, knowing it could be cast aside. But it was her only ace. "You say it and I'll quit the business." Spot's grin faded. "You say it and I'll move back to Brooklyn. I'll become a newsie again. No more other men. It'll be you and me."

It took Spot a moment to find his voice. "Gracie…"

"You can't hide it anymore, Conlon," she said. "Not from me."

Spot took her hand. "It's not that easy, Gracie."

"It's three simple words," her voice cracked, and Spot could see tears forming in her eyes.

"I don't mean that." Spot took her hand. "I mean everything after the words. Even after last night you want to try and move back to Brooklyn? You'd go through something like that every day."

Grace looked down. "It would be worth it."

"Gracie…" But that was all he said. Her name hung in the air between them. Grace sat, hoping he would say something more. When her wait was met with silence that was it.

Grace sighed and slammed her cup down, splashing coffee. She got up and stormed away.

Spot sighed. "Oh, come on, Gracie, come back."

"No," said Grace, whipping around. "I'm tired of it. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of knowing, but at the same time not knowing. I'm tired of doing this with you. You're my only reason to stay in New York, and if you're not even a reason, then I'm gone." With that, she turned and walked across the bridge.

Spot sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. He turned and walked back to his lodging house. He'd give her the day to cool down and go visit her that night.


	19. Gone

Gracie grabbed some of her savings and bought a suitcase. She went back to the brothel and began going through her things. She packed what she really wanted to take, and opened her room to the other girls, who came in and raided her closet for the clothes she couldn't take.

She went through the rest of her room; packing the little knick-knacks she wanted to take. She packed her make up. She sorted her jewelry, putting most of it out for the girls to take what they wanted. The only piece of jewelry she took was the necklace Spot had given to her a year ago. She moved to put it in the pile for the girls, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She fastened it around her neck.

She grabbed her money out of her vanity drawer and counted it out. She walked across the room and lifted the floorboard and took out her emergency cash. She went into her closet into the box in the very back for her emergency-emergency cash. She packed most of it and put the rest into her purse.

Night had fallen before she was done. She knew which regulars would be coming in that night, and she made her plans.

* * *

The next morning, Grace took one last glance around her room. She picked up her suitcase and walked out.

She headed toward Race's usual selling spot. She hoped he was still there and hadn't left for the track yet. She was relieved to hear his voice shouting the headlines.

"Gracie," he grinned when he saw her. His smile faded when he saw the suitcase in her hands. "Goin' somewhere?"

"I'm leavin' town."

Race's face fell. "Gracie, no."

"I have to. There's nothin' for me here."

"There's me," said Race. "You're my best friend. There's Spot. He's crazy about you. It'll kill him if you leave."

Grace shook her head. "He had his chances."

"Please don't go."

"I've already made my arrangements. I need to be at Penn Station in an hour."

"Does Spot know you're leavin'?"

Grace looked at him for a few beats before shaking her head. "Tell him goodbye for me, will you?"

"You're makin' a huge mistake, Gracie."

"I might be. But it's better than sitting and waiting around for something that may never happen."

"He loves you, Gracie."

"Maybe, but he won't do anything about it."

"You know Spot."

She shook her head. "I laid it all out for him. I told him I would leave the business for him. I told him he would be my one and only. He tossed that aside."

Race sighed. "You know he ain't good with this kind of stuff."

"All he had to do was admit it. All he had to say was 'yes, I love you,' and we wouldn't be where we are now."

"So because of all that, you're leaving?"

"It hurts too much to stick around."

Race pulled her into a tight hug. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." His collar muffled Grace's voice, and she felt tears sting her eyes.

"Write to me when you get to wherever you're goin'."

Grace nodded.

"I love you, kid."

"You too."

* * *

Spot ran across the bridge. He was an idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. He prayed he wasn't too late. He ran down his usual route to the house. He burst through the door, startling the girls who were in there.

He ran up the stairs and to the last room on the left – Grace's room. He pushed open the door.

It looked the same, but so wrong. The bed was there, stripped of sheets. The vanity was there, but no make up or hair accessories. The closet was wide open, empty of all clothing. Her nightstand was empty.

Spot rushed down the stairs.

"Where's Grace?" he asked the girls.

"Oh, honey, she left early this morning," Lula said. "Packed up and caught a train out west."

Spot's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. She was gone.


	20. Twelve Years

_2 January 1900_

 _Dear Race,_

 _Boy, I sure miss you already. Right now I'm on a train out west with a fella I know from the house. He was one of my regulars – a really sweet guy. His family is building one of the railroads out here. We're heading out to Nevada – wherever that is. I asked him if it was anywhere near Santa Fe, and he said not really, but it's sort of the same. He said it's the same as the place we're riding through right now and, don't tell Cowboy, but it ain't all that impressive._

 _I don't know exactly where I'll end up, or what I'll do when I get there, but I'll be sure to let you know what's going on. Tell all the boys hi from me._

 _Always,_

 _Gracie_

* * *

Spot sat on the docks, staring out at the East River. From his perch, he could see a very tiny of the corner of the roof of the house where Grace used to be.

Four months. She'd been gone for four months. Spot thought he would feel better by this point, but he just wondered what she was doing at that moment.

"Heya, Spot." Race's voice broke him out of his trance. He looked down.

"Hey, Race." Spot climbed down from his perch and spit shook with his friend.

"I was just headin' down to Sheepshead. Thought I'd come say hi."

Spot walked along with Race toward the racetrack. "Got a hot tip today?"

"Nah, just felt like a good day."

Spot nodded.

Race glanced over at him as they walked. "I got another letter from Gracie yesterday."

"Yeah?"

"She's settled in a town and started work. She sounds good. Sounds like she likes it out there."

"Good for her."

"You should write to her. I think she'd like that."

"And say what?"

Race shrugged. "How about the truth for once? The poor girl deserves at least that much."

Spot just shrugged.

* * *

 _16 June 1900_

 _Gracie,_

 _I'm sure glad you're doing good. Thanks for your letters and thanks for letting me know where I can send mail. I never sent a letter before. Had to get Kloppman to help me put all the address on the envelope._

 _Spot hasn't been the same since you left. He's been real mopey and angry all the time. He really misses you. Sometimes I just want to strangle the guy for what he put you through. Other times I want to give him all my money so he can hop a train out west and bring you back. He would go in a heartbeat. But he'd be sassing you the whole time so you wouldn't even know he was there to bring you back._

 _Spot found out that I been writing to you. He wanted me to give him all your letters so he could read them, but I told him no. If he wanted a letter from you, he could write to you himself. I didn't give him your address, though. He just knows you're out there in Nevada. I told him if he wanted to write a letter to you, I would mail it for him. He got mad and went back to Brooklyn after I said that._

 _I sure miss you, Gracie. New York isn't the same without you._

 _Yours,_

 _Race_

* * *

 _30 December 1900_

 _Race,_

 _Sorry it's been so long since my last letter._

 _I found a new place here in Nevada. It's a house like the one in Manhattan, but it's not as nice. They don't have a lot of the things out here that we do back home. Everything's a lot simpler, but a lot cleaner. It's dusty, but everything isn't covered in the grime that New York is covered in. And the air is clean and doesn't smell._

 _I sure wish you were here. They've got a few saloons here, and there's always a poker or blackjack game going on. You would clean up. These men ain't as clever as you. I haven't played them, but just watching them, I can tell who has a good hand and who has a bad hand. You taught me well, Higgins._

 _Has Cowboy left for Santa Fe yet? They're building a railroad that goes right through town down there. They're building lots of railroads up this way too. It's gonna start getting easier to get across the country. Maybe one day you can come visit. I don't know if I could stomach a trip home. Too much Spot in one place…_

 _Always,_

 _Gracie_

* * *

Spot thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He held the envelope in his hand, hardly believing it was real, but there it was, addresses to him and everything:

 _Spot Conlon_

 _No. 61 Poplar St._

 _Brooklyn, NY_

The postmark was Nevada. He stuffed the letter into his pocket and climbed to the rooftop of his lodging house. He didn't need any of the boys around when he read it. Who knows what it said? He hadn't heard from her in three and a half years. He knew she kept in touch with Race, but never did he dream he'd get a letter from her. He sat on an upturned crate and took out the envelope, opening it carefully.

 _2 August 1903_

 _Spot,_

 _Happy birthday, Spot. I hope this makes it to you in time for your real birthday on the 13_ _th_ _. Today is the 2_ _nd_ _, which means it's been 4 years since the strike ended and 4 years since you first kissed me._

 _I was thinking about you the other day (who am I kidding, I think about you every day) and I realized that before I left, I put so much pressure on you to 'say it' when I never said it._

 _So, I guess this is my gift to you on your 21_ _st_ _birthday. I love you, Spot Conlon. I always have. I probably always will._

 _I miss you._

 _Yours,_

 _Gracie_

Spot reread the letter. Then he reread it again. He read it over and over until he practically had it memorized. Even after reading through it several times, his heart began racing whenever he read the words "I love you, Spot Conlon."

He folded the letter and stuck it in his shirt pocket. He rubbed his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared out over his city.

Tomorrow was his birthday. Tomorrow he'd be a man. Tomorrow he'd have to get a real job and find a real place to live. The caretaker of the lodging house would let him stay a few more days, but Spot knew it was time to grow up. Time to move on.

A plan began forming in his mind, and he did he calculations. He needed to see it on paper to see if it would really work. He walked down the fire escape and crawled in the window of the schoolroom they never used. He found some paper and a pencil and sat down and began figuring.

Satisfied with his conclusion, he picked up a fresh piece of paper and began writing.

As the sun began to set, it became more and more difficult to see in the school room. After an hour, Spot grew frustrated and shoved all the papers to the floor and stormed out of the room.

Left on the floor was a page full of figures showing how many days of selling it would take to raise enough money to buy a one-way ticket out west. On the other papers…

 _Gracie,_

 _Thanks for your letter. I really_

 _Gracie,_

 _I love you too. I was an idiot to not say it before. I was an idiot to not say it before the strike. I was an idiot to not say it when I first felt it when we_

 _Gracie,_

 _I'm coming for you. Stay where you are. I'm going to hop a train next week and_

 _Gracie,_

 _Marry me._

…but they remained unfinished and unsent.

* * *

 _5 May 1906_

 _Race,_

 _Thanks for giving me your new address. I'm so proud of you! Getting your own place and a real job! I always knew you'd end up working at Sheepshead._

 _Things are movin' out here too. I finally saved up enough and got out of that old place. The bartender, Mike, and I left and travelled north for a ways. We opened up our own saloon. He's the bartender, and I manage everything else. We got ourselves a piano player and a couple girls who sing and entertain the men. It feels good to not be workin' like I used to. I just manage the house and take care of the girls. We're making good money, too. Enough that maybe I could come visit New York some time. I really miss you._

 _How is Spot doing? I've written to him a lot, but he's never responded to anything. I'm sure he's still mad at me for leaving. He was always the one who could hold a grudge the longest. Has he found someone else? I hope he finds someone who can make him happy._

 _How about you? Have YOU found a girl yet? Someone who would put up with that smartass mouth of yours? Haha. But seriously, whenever you find a girl, she's gonna be damn lucky. You're a good guy._

 _Yours,_

 _Gracie_

* * *

 _5 November 1906_

 _Gracie,_

 _Well, well, well, look who's moving up in the world! I'm so happy to hear things are going well for you._

 _There is this one girl I've been seeing. She's real sweet. Her pop owns a couple horses. We've been courting for a few months now and I'm thinking of asking her to marry me. I sure hope when the time comes, you'll come out for the wedding, Gracie. It wouldn't be the same without you._

 _Spot works at the docks in Brooklyn now. He started working there shortly after he turned 21 and left the lodging house. He still keeps an eye on the Brooklyn newsies, even though there's a new leader now. I think he's a foreman over there now, so he's the boss of all the boys on the dock. Makes sense that wherever he ended up, he'd work his way to the top._

 _Spot hasn't found a girl yet. It's hard to get him out of his old habits. He's been chasing skirts a lot, not staying with any of them for too long. Don't tell him I said this, but every girl he chases sort of reminds me of you. Sometimes it's the way she looks, or how she talks, or the way she acts. I know Spot sees it too. He's just trying to find a new Gracie – he doesn't realize there's only one of you._

 _Race_

* * *

 _4 January 1908_

 _Race,_

 _I got a farm! I'm a landowner! I own land! They got this law that says if you lay claim to land and promise to farm it and live on it, then you get the land for free._

 _Stop laughing – I'm not going to farm the place myself. I'm going to build a little house on here and then hire some fellas who came out here recently to farm it for me. It's really pretty. There are hills and a little river runs next to it. I wish you could see it._

 _If they had racetracks out here, I'd buy me some horses and train them and send them your way. Then you'd know which horses to bet one because you know mine would win._

 _I am so sorry I missed your wedding. I wanted to come, but I just couldn't manage to get away. The business at the saloon is booming and I got my house built on my farm. I want to find a photographer to take some pictures of it so you can see it. I hope once your little son or daughter comes, you will send Auntie Grace a photo!_

 _Always,_

 _Gracie_

* * *

 _26 March 1911_

 _Race,_

 _I've been doing a lot of thinking. A fella who comes into the saloon a lot made me an offer and I think I'm going to take it. He's an heir to a steel fortune and he has to do business in Europe and he asked me to come with him. Nothing serious. He just wants some company in Europe – someone to attend social events with. I'll be a high-class lady! I haven't been to civilization in a long time. It will feel good to be back in a city._

 _I don't know what it is, but I've been getting antsy. I think coz I'm getting older. I'm practically an old maid. Every other woman my age is married with at least two or three kids. They have a lot of kids out here. They need people to work the farms, and there are not a lot of people to hire, so they just make the people!_

 _I don't think anyone would really want to marry me. I've done a lot in my life…I'm not sure any man would want to forgive all that just to marry me. And who knows if I can still have kids._

 _I don't know when I'll see you again. We're leaving out of Boston Harbor, so I won't see you on my way out of the country. I'll still write to you. The letters will just take longer to get to you._

 _Always,_

 _Gracie_


	21. 1912

Grace sat, watching the massive stern of the ship slowly but steadily rise into the air.

"Pull! And pull!" the officer in the lifeboat called to his subordinates.

Grace pulled her fur coat tighter around her, shivering. She felt her money secure in her pocket, and a necklace with a tiny pearl pendant around her neck.

"Pull faster, men, we need to row away from the suction!" the officer called.

Grace felt guilty for leaving her gentleman on the ship. But the ship's officer insisted. "Women and children only!" Had they knew she was only an escort they probably would have kept her on the ship to make room for the real ladies.

* * *

She closed her eyes, wanting to drown out the screams. Time passed and slowly, the distant noise faded into silence.

Amidst the tragedy that surrounded her, all she could think of was, "At least the newsies will have a good headline in the morning."

The newsies. She hadn't seen any of them in twelve years. She had only ever been in contact with Race. Spot never answered any of her letters.

Spot. Would she ever see him again? No ships had come to their rescue so far. How long would they be drifting at sea before another ship came along? Or had they drifted too far from the shipping lanes that no ship would find them?"

Hours later, a dot appeared on the horizon, steadily growing closer. It was the _Carpathia_ , coming to their rescue – too little too late, but it was a ride home.

* * *

Another four days passed and one night, New York Harbor came into view.

She hadn't been to New York in years. She'd avoided it when she originally set sail for Europe. While most of the passengers stood watching the Statue of Liberty pass by, she was on the other side of the ship, scanning the horizon for the light of the Brooklyn Bridge.

* * *

Despite the cold and the rain and the late hour, tens of thousands of people were near the pier, waiting for the passengers. Grace didn't want the crowds. She just wanted to slip off the ship in private and find a real bed to sleep in. She looked out over the crowds, wondering how many, if any, of the people down there she knew. Was Race down there? Blaze? Jack or David? Spot?

What she hadn't known was the papers had printed the names of the _Titanic_ survivors. And even former newsies still read the papers.

* * *

Grace stayed put until most of the passengers had disembarked. Much of the crowd had disappeared, but there were still a good couple thousand people.

"Time to go, miss," an officer said.

Grace stood up and walked toward the gangplank. She slowly walked down and onto Pier 54.

She just needed to find a room for the night. Somewhere to get some decent sleep, and she would worry about finding real clothes in the morning. She was still in her dress from the night of the sinking. Everything she owned had gone down with the ship.

She walked off the pier, trying to ignore the peering looks from bystanders; people trying to see if she belonged to them, if she was one of their loved ones who had survived. With all those people around, she had no idea how many of them were keeping an eye out for her.

It took her a while, but she reached the back of the crowd. She started to walk down 23rd, when she heard a voice that made her stop dead in her tracks.

"Welcome back, Gracie."

That voice. It was like coming home. All at once, Grace felt nostalgia, regret, happiness, sadness, and anger. She turned around.

"Thanks, Spot."

He had changed. Twelve years will do that to a person. He was taller. His jaw was more defined, his shoulders were broader, and he was more built than the last time she saw him. He was a man.

But those eyes and that smirk were still the same.

"Didn't expect to see you here," she said.

Spot pushed off the building corner he'd been leaning against and walked over to her.

"I saw your name in the papes," he said. "You didn't think I'd come to welcome you home?"

"I wasn't sure you were still around."

"You got a place to stay?" he asked.

Grace shook her head.

Spot held out his arm. "You do now."

Grace couldn't help but grin. "So genteel." She looped her arm through his.

"I'm always proper when escorting a lady," he grinned, as they walked through the streets.

* * *

Grace rolled over and stretched. For a moment when she opened her eyes, she panicked, not remembering the events of late last night. Slowly, it came back to her. She was in Spot's apartment. She was wearing Spot's shirt. Spot had slept on the couch in the other room. She fingered the collar of the shirt, and brought part of it up to her nose. It smelled like him. His was a comforting scent.

She smelled eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen. Her stomach growled in response. She stood up and walked out of the bedroom, his shirttails going down to her knees.

She walked out of the bedroom and saw Spot at the stove, pushing eggs around a skillet while bacon crackled beside it.

"Well that's a sight I never thought I'd see," she smirked.

Spot turned and looked at her. "Good morning," he grinned. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

She sat at his tiny dining table and he set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her and one across the table for himself.

They ate in uncomfortable silence, neither knowing what to say to the other.

"You back in town for good this time?" he asked.

Grace hesitated. "I don't know." Spot looked down, eating his eggs. "I still own half the saloon and I have the farm out west."

"You still, uh…in the business?"

Grace looked up at him, but he kept his eyes on his plate. "No, I'm done with that life." Spot nodded, keeping his eyes down as he ate.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need." He tried his best to make it sound casual and not at all that he was terrified of losing her again.

A few silent minutes passed before either of them spoke again.

"There's something about being on a sinking ship that makes you reevaluate your life," she said.

Spot looked up at her. He paused for a moment, twisting his fork nervously in his hand. He knew she had more to say, but in that moment, he didn't care. "Stay."

Grace snapped her head up, not expecting that.

Spot's usual confidence gone, as if he was nervous about her answer. "Stay with me."

"Spot…"

"Gracie, please. I…" he swallowed. Even after 12 years of hard learned lessons, humility still left a bad taste in his mouth. "I can't lose you again."

Grace's expression softened. "I still have the farm and saloon out in Reno…"

Spot shook his head. "Forget it. It was a dumb idea." He went back to eating.

Grace watched him. Even though she hadn't seen him in over a decade, he hadn't changed. Before she'd left, it had taken 12 years of friendship before he had opened up about how he really felt. She'd been gone for another 12 years. They were back at square one. She couldn't expect him to just open up after her being gone this long.

When she didn't say anything, Spot stood up and took his plate to the sink.

Grace followed him, carrying her plate to the sink. As soon as she set it down, Spot put his hands around her waist and pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers.

Immediately, they both felt like it was twelve years ago. The familiar feel and taste of each other transported them back in time.

Grace leaned into him and slid her arms around his neck, threading her fingers up through his hair. He turned them so she was backed up against the counter, his entire body pressed up against hers.

No one ever kissed her like Spot Conlon. He could deny it and avoid saying it all he wanted, but from his kisses Grace knew that Spot loved her – he always had. That's how she knew. That's how she'd always known.

He picked her up and set her on the counter and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed down her cheek and neck.

Even holding her in his arms, he could hardly believe his luck. He could hardly believe she was back in his life, for however briefly. He had nothing to lose but her.

"Stay with me, Gracie," he mumbled against her skin. He looked at her. "I know you've got business out west, and I'm being a selfish bastard for begging you like this, but…I don't care. I can't let you leave again."

Grace had no intention of leaving – not New York, not his apartment, not his arms. She could conduct the sale of her farm and her portion of the saloon from the city.

A small smirk played on her lips. "If you say it, I'll stay."

Spot smirked. "You brat."

Grace giggled.

Spot put his hands on her cheeks so she was looking at him. "I love you, Gracie. I've always loved you, and I'll never stop loving you."

Grace smiled, tears springing to her eyes. "I love you too, Spot."

Spot leaned in and kissed her, feeling for the first time since the night the strike ended, that everything was going to be okay.


	22. Epilogue 1, One-shot

Spot opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Grace's brown hair. He grinned to himself. Even after a week, he could hardly believe she was back in his life.

He carefully turned to look at his clock. He was glad to see he beat the alarm by a few minutes. He reached over and switched it off so it wouldn't go off and wake Grace up, even though she'd been getting up with him every day to have breakfast with him before he left for work.

He got out of bed, careful to not disturb her. He grabbed his clothes and crept down the hall to the bathroom. As he got dressed and washed up, the gold glint of her wedding band sitting on the counter caught his eye.

He grinned and picked it up, remembering what a week it had been.

* * *

 _"Every time I walk in or out of the building, I get that look from your downstairs neighbor," Grace chuckled, walking into the apartment. She had been out shopping for a new wardrobe, as everything she had owned was currently at the bottom of the Atlantic._

 _Spot smirked at her from his spot on the sofa. "Because she knows we're not married."_

 _Grace set her packages down and walked over to him. "We're so scandalous," she said, mock-dramatically. She plopped down on his lap._

 _Spot put his arms around her. "We don't have to be, you know."_

 _"What do you mean?" Grace put her arms around his neck._

 _"I mean what if we weren't not married?" He rubbed her sides._

 _Grace hesitated and then smirked. "Only you would propose marriage like that."_

 _Spot smirked and shrugged. "All part of my charm."_

 _"Sometimes."_

 _"So what do you say?"_

 _Grace looked towards the ceiling, pretending to think about it. "Mmmm…how about you ask me the right way?"_

 _Spot smirked at her for a few beats before nodding. "Okay, then." He patted her leg. "Stand up."_

 _Grace grinned stood up and Spot stood up in front of her, taking her hands in his._

 _"You ready for this?" Spot asked. "Because you're never going to see this again."_

 _"Bring it on," Grace grinned. Grace prepared herself for the most smart-ass proposal in the history of proposals._

 _But what Spot said caught her off guard._

 _"Gracie." Spot got down on one knee. "The past twelve years have been the darkest of my life because you weren't in them. Starting when we were sixteen, I would put a little money aside every week so that one day, I could buy you a wedding ring." Grace's grin slowly faded and she felt tears come to her eyes. "I've loved you for most of my life, Gracie. I've always known I wanted to be the only man in your life. I wanted to be the one to protect you. I wanted to be the one who was your friend. And, when we got older, I wanted to be your lover." Grace felt her throat tighten and the tears were streaming down her eyes. "The day you left, before I knew you left, I bought this." He took a small gold band out of his pocket. Grace tried her best to keep her composure, but a few sobs managed to escape. "I ran from my lodging house to yours, because I knew I had screwed up. I was going to get you out of that house and ask you to marry me. But I was too late. And I promised myself that if I were ever lucky enough that you would come back into my life, I would do whatever it took to keep you by my side." Spot hesitated and bowed his head. He took a breath and looked back up at her. "Gracie…will you marry me?"_

 _Grace lost her battle with the tears and broke down. "Yes…yes!" she said between the sobs._

 _Spot stood up and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "I love you, Gracie," he said, his face buried in her neck._

 _"I love you too."_

* * *

Tingling in his cheeks broke Spot from his thoughts. He realized he'd been grinning as he'd remembered that morning. Grace didn't want a big ceremony – she just wanted her and Spot at the courthouse.

But Spot had other plans.

* * *

 _"I have a surprise for you," Spot said on the trolley ride to the courthouse._

 _"What?" Grace grinned._

 _"You'll see," Spot smirked._

 _"When?"_

 _"Just be patient!"_

 _Grace sighed impatiently and looked out the window_

 _Spot grinned and looked at her. She'd chosen a simple blue dress to get married in. She had refused to wear white – who were they kidding?_

 _Spot put his arm around her and hoped that Race would beat them to the courthouse. From what Spot could tell, she had lost contact with Race while she'd been in Europe. The morning after she and Spot had been reunited, she said something about trying to find Race again, and Spot promised to help her._

 _The next day, Spot had gone to Sheepshead and told Race that Grace was back, and he was planning on proposing. "It's about damn time!" had been Race's reaction._

 _Now they were on their way to the courthouse where Race, his wife, and their three kids were waiting to meet Auntie Grace, whom none of them had ever met, but they all knew well through Race's stories about their childhood._

 _The trolley pulled to a stop outside the Brooklyn Courthouse and Spot and Grace got off. Spot took her hand and they walked into the building. They were directed to the correct floor and ascended the stairs._

 _"I'm finally gonna make an honest man out of you," Grace grinned._

 _"I could say the same of you," said Spot._

 _Grace smirked. "I've always been honest. It was you who took twelve years to say it."_

 _They got to the right floor and Spot stopped her before they rounded the corner to go down the hall._

 _"Are you ready for your surprise?" Spot asked._

 _"Yes."_

 _"Are you sure?" he asked._

 _"Just give it to me, already!"_

 _Spot laughed. "You always were the impatient one." He led around around the corner, where Race stood, a few yards away._

 _"Gracie!"_

 _"Race!"_

 _Grace ran up to him and he hugged her, spinning her around._

 _"Boy, is it good to see you!" He said, putting her down and pulling away._

 _"It's good to see you too!"_

 _"There's someone I want you to meet." Race held out his arm and a woman moved to his side and he put his arm around her. "Gracie, this is Elsie. My wife."_

 _"It's so good to finally meet you," Elsie grinned._

 _"Same here," said Grace. "Any woman willing to put up with this guy…" Grace jerked her thumb at Race._

 _"Hey!" said Race and the women laughed._

 _"This is William and Joey," said Elsie, gesturing to a four-year-old and a two-year-old sitting on a nearby bench. They both walked over and Grace smiled at them. "Boys, can you say hi to Auntie Grace?"_

 _"Hi Auntie Grace," said William._

 _Joey just hid behind his mother's skirt._

 _"He's a little shy," Elsie said apologetically._

 _"And this little beauty," said Race, taking a baby girl out of Elsie's arms. "Is Baby Grace."_

 _Grace's grin faded into surprise, feeling the tears come once more._

 _"You named her Grace?" she asked._

 _Race nodded, beaming._

 _Grace wiped a few stray tears away. "I have cried more in the past two days than I have my whole life," she said, chuckling._

 _Spot put his arm around her and pulled her close to his side. "I don't mean to bust up the reunion, but I've been waitin' to marry this woman for twelve years now…"_

* * *

Sounds from the kitchen broke Spot from his memory. He finished getting dressed and walked out into the kitchen.

"I was beginning to think you got lost in there," said Grace, pushing some eggs around a skillet.

Spot grinned and looked her over. She'd managed to get herself an entire wardrobe in a few days, but she hadn't bought any nightgowns. She just slept in Spot's shirts, which he didn't mind at all.

"Hungry?" She looked back at him.

Spot nodded and walked over. "Yeah."

She turned back to the breakfast cooking on the stove. Spot walked over and put his hands around her waist, kissing her shoulder and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I love you, Gracie."

Grace grinned and rested her head against his. "I love you too, Spot. Always have. Always will."


	23. Epilogue 2, One-shot

"Everything's falling apart," Grace sighed, holding Baby Grace as Elsie watched William and Joey play in the snow-covered park. "Ever since our fight at Christmas, things have been different. We haven't kissed, haven't made love…we've hardly touched since then."

Elsie gave her a sympathetic look. "That's a long time."

"We have the money," said Grace. "We can live somewhere a little nicer, but he doesn't want to. He refuses to let me contribute in any way toward our finances, even though I have plenty."

"I'm not surprised," said Elsie. "I mean, you know him better than I do, but I get the impression that he's very much an alpha male. He wants to be the one in charge."

"And it drives me crazy! I'm so used to going where I want, doing what I want…suddenly it feels like everything I do has to go through him. And resenting that makes me feel like an awful wife."

"You're not an awful wife," said Elsie, putting her hand on Grace's arm.

"And on top of all that…" Grace sighed. "He wants kids so bad. Which surprised me more than anything. I never thought he would, but he can't wait to start a family."

"And you don't?"

"I do. But after so many years of doing things to not get pregnant, I don't know if I can. We tried for several months before Christmas and…nothing. Spot blames me for that."

"He said that?" asked Elsie.

Grace shrugged. "Not in so many words, but I know he does." She looked down. "There was this one time…when I was seventeen, I got pregnant. The madam had a lady come and take care of it for me. I remember at the time thinking, 'what if it was Spot's?' Now I can't help but think, 'what if that was my one chance?' Now I'm all used up…no good."

"Don't talk about yourself that way," said Elsie. "And I know Spot doesn't think of you like that. Grace, Spot's a provider. He wants to take care of you. He wants to protect you. Especially after everything you've been through."

"I'm just so used to having to take care of myself."

Elsie looked at her for a few beats. "You know, he blames himself. For everything." Grace looked over at her. "From the moment you missed your first meal during the strike all the way to the ship sinking. I think he's trying to make up for that now."

"When we first got married…it was incredible. It was like our whole lives suddenly just fell into place. I never thought it would be this hard."

"If there's anything I've learned about you two is that you're loyal and stubborn," Elsie said, a grin on her face. "You two will work it out. I know you will."

Grace gave her a small smile.

* * *

Spot sat at the bar and polished off his beer.

"Startin' without me, huh?" Race clapped him on the shoulder as he sat on the barstool next to him. He brushed a few snowflakes off his coat. "It's comin' down out there. Good thing spring will be here soon."

"Yeah," Spot said, sliding the glass forward toward the bartender for a refill.

"What's wrong?" Race frowned.

Spot shook his head and sighed. "Everything."

Race ordered a beer for himself as the bartender gave Spot his refill. "Well, start at the beginning."

"It's just the same old stuff," Spot said, looking into his beer.

"Again?"

Spot nodded. "Kids, money, the apartment…then last night she started saying stuff like 'what if we got married too soon' and 'I don't know if I can keep doing this'…"

Race looked at his friend for a few beats. "You're scared she's gonna leave again."

Spot hesitated, slowly spinning his glass, and then nodded. "Yeah."

"She won't leave," said Race, taking a sip of his beer.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Coz I know Gracie. And I know you. You two are so damn stubborn. That's why it took you so long to get together in the first place. And now that you are together, no matter what happens, no matter how hard things get, neither one of you will give up on the other. After all this time, I know you'll do anything to keep her."

"This feels different," he sighed. "This year with her has been harder than all the ones without her. I mean I look at you and Elsie—"

"You can't compare you and Gracie to me and Elsie," said Race, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Because Elsie went to school. Elsie lived with her parents until she and I got married. While her family wasn't rich, she was still brought up proper. So our marriage works different. Sure, we have disagreements and not everything is perfect, but we both give and take."

"Now you and Gracie," Race continued. "That's a different story. She's been out there on her own for the last twelve years. She partnered in buying a saloon and ran it. She bought a farm, hired men to work it for her. She did all sorts of things that women here just don't do. Remember, this is our Gracie. Instead of tryin' to make her fit what you think a wife should be…just enjoy having her as your wife. You two can make your life together whatever you want it to be. Just remember: it's give and take."

* * *

Grace stood at the stove making dinner when Spot walked in the door. She glanced over at him as he hung up his hat and coat.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey." Spot walked over to her and leaned against the counter. "Can we talk?"

Grace's stomach turned, afraid of what was coming.

"Spot, I don't know if I have the energy tonight," she said. "Can we just eat and go to bed?"

"No," said Spot. He took her hand. "Come here."

Grace sighed and took a few steps towards him. Spot put his arms around her waist.

"Look, maybe we did get married too soon after seeing each other for the first time in so long," said Spot. "We didn't really think through anything except wanting to be together. I think we both know this won't be our last fight. But we still made those vows to each other. And if you were to ask me on our worst day, I would still marry you over and over again." Grace bowed her head, tears rolling down her cheeks, her face crumbling into a sob. Spot kissed the top of her head.

"I didn't think it would be this hard," Grace said, looking back up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Spot smirked softly and wiped her tears. "We're talkin' about you and me. I'd be surprised if it wasn't hard." Grace could help but chuckle through her tears. "No matter what, Gracie, I love you. I can't lose you again. And I know there won't be easy solutions to our problems, but they're worth working out." Spot hesitated as doubt crept into the back of his mind that she might not feel the same way. "Right?"

Grace's chin quivered and more tears came, but she nodded. "Yeah."

Spot exhaled, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. He pulled her close, holding her tight.

Grace closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, having missed being in his arms. "Let's not talk about any of it tonight," she said.

Spot moved his head so his lips were next to her ear. "Let's not talk at all," he whispered, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom.


End file.
